She's Just Not That Into You
by gigundoly
Summary: Based on Season 2 spoilers reported at Comic-Con.  Everyone's back for the new school year, but plenty has changed over the vacation. Quinn and Artie take on "Little Shop of Horrors" but don't return to New Directions. Relationships change, hearts break.
1. Part One: Finn

A/N: I've returned! Sorry for the long absence. I took four vacations this summer. I've deleted one project in favor of starting this. DO NOT READ THIS AT ALL IF YOU DON'T WANT SEASON 2 SPOILERS! Don't say I didn't warn you. I'm basing it largely around things I've heard/want to be true. I may or may not have disregarded certain spoilers because I think Ryan Murphy is lying. ^_^

Join La Rose Bleue's ArTina Ficathon, guys! I will be participating, and I'm so stoked for this. For more information, see Rose's profile.

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_Finn_

At lot can change in one summer.

The parking lot was already full of cars by the time I arrived, which meant that I had to park by the football field and walk clear across the lot to get to school. Even though I was running late, I trudged slowly, in no hurry to begin junior year. Who really cares about being a junior? I wouldn't be skipping off to school until I was a senior. Anyway, it doesn't matter if you're late on the first day of school. You can always pretend you got lost on your way to your first class.

A black Toyota Yaris nearly ran me down as I crossed the lot. I jumped back and watched the driver jerk his car into a handicapped space. Deciding I was annoyed enough to give the driver a piece of my mind, I crossed my arms in front of my body and waited for the driver to get out. I had enough on my plate, with football two-a-days and a class called Chemistry on my schedule this year. The last thing I needed was to be mowed down in the parking lot. I was still Finn Hudson, dammit, and I didn't take that crap from anyone.

The door swung open, and I watched as the metal frame of a wheelchair came out first. The driver had leaned his seat all the way back to get the bulky thing out first, then he took out a wheel and began attaching it to the chair. I circled around to get a better look at the driver, Artie Abrams, as he reconstructed the chair beside the car. Since when did Artie drive? And upon a closer look, since when did Artie look like that?

He was wearing a tight fitting black shirt, jeans that were ripped and faded, and dark shades. No more sweater vests. No more nerdy suspenders. I stared on as he attached the other wheel and then added the seat. It took an amazingly long time, and it looked like Artie was going to be late like me. Since when was Artie ever late to class? He remained oblivious to my presence as I stared.

Laughter rang out behind me. I turned to see Tina, getting a ride to class on Mike Chang's back, as they strode by Artie's vehicle. Artie looked up then, removing his shades, and shot daggers at them with his eyes. Tina, in turn, stopped giggling long enough to take in the look she was getting from Artie. The whole thing happened in a split second, and if I'd blinked, I would have missed it. Tina and Mike kept on going as if nothing had happened, and Artie realized that he had an audience.

"Finn!" he said, greeting me as if I hadn't just seen him get the cold shoulder from the girl who had been by his side all last year. I had no idea they'd even broken up. I immediately felt guilty for not talking to Artie for so long. "Hey, man, did you have a good summer?"

He pulled out a sturdy looking piece of plastic and used to shimmy from the driver's seat into his wheelchair. I was still kind of distracted, watching him arrange his feet into the foot rests. That took some talent, that move. He made it look easy.

"I did," I finally reported, finding my voice again. "Rachel's dads invited me to Jersey shore and we spent two weeks at their beach house. But that was pretty much the only vacation I had. I already miss sleeping in."

"I don't really sleep in," Artie commented, shutting his car door and using the automatic locks that made me jealous. I didn't have automatic locks or power windows. It was always kind of embarrassing to crank down the window whenever Rachel and I went for a ride. "I spent most of my summer with my aunt in Columbus. They have an adaptive driving program there. That's how I finally got my license."

"You look… different," I said. "But congratulations, man."

"I _feel _different," he remarked, grabbing his wheels and giving them a push that sent him rolling down the slight decline of the pavement. "Hope you have a great first day. I'll see you later."

Something else was different besides his new look, new car, and the lack of Tina's presence behind his chair, but I couldn't quite place it. But before I could think about it much longer, someone tapped my shoulder and I turned to find Rachel beaming at me. "We'd better get going! I took the liberty of changing my schedule to match yours."

"Cool," I said, grinning and giving her a kiss. Last year, I would have probably thought Rachel was being clingy, but this year was different. This year, I really liked the idea of having Rachel in every class. Plus, she could make sure I didn't flunk. Maybe I could copy off her, if worse came to worst.

"Ms. Pillsbury is the best," she added, grabbing my hand and interlocking her fingers. Summer hadn't changed Rachel a bit, a fact that made me happy. We'd had a rough start, but we were still going strong.

I'm not a fan of change myself. It was why moving in with Kurt and his dad had been so hard at first. That had improved, and I was going to be getting the garage for my bedroom, once the conversion was done. It had been Kurt's idea. He didn't care for my late-night XBox habits or my dirty laundry on the floor. The crush he'd had on me was long gone, now that we were almost stepbrothers. Our parents were officially engaged, and they'd announced it to us last week at dinner. The living arrangements would be permanent. The wedding was a month away. I was still getting used the idea.

Kurt was the first person I spotted when I entered the school with Rachel. He was standing awfully close to some guy with spiky blond hair, their heads close together, engrossed in conversation. There was definitely a violation of personal space taking place. Straight dudes just didn't stand that close to other dudes. Did I miss something? As far as I knew, Kurt didn't have a boyfriend. As far as I knew, Kurt was the only gay guy in Allen County.

He didn't even see me pass by. A few lockers down, Mercedes stared straight ahead wearing an expression I couldn't read. When I walked by her and smiled, she forced a tight smile on her face. It appeared she'd given up on waiting for Kurt as she took her books out of her locker and left without giving him a second look. Another glance at Kurt told me he hadn't even noticed.

"Hey, Hudson, how's it hanging?" Puck approached, greeting me with a fist bump, his other arm slung around a smug Santana. I hadn't seen much of Puck that summer, with the exception of football practice. Our friendship never really did recover after all the drama with Quinn. When we did see each other, we'd been too busy sweating and puking to have a decent conversation. I didn't hate him any more. I just didn't really know who he was.

"Hey, dude," I replied, returning the friendly first bump. I gave Santana an awkward little nod and she sneered at me. I hated, _hated _the fact that this was the girl who had my virginity, and that it wasn't Rachel. I hated that Santana would always be able to gloat about it, and that I was just a mere one night stand. She said I should be grateful that she'd been willing to teach me how to be a real man. I wished I hadn't been so driven by my jealously, hadn't allowed myself to stoop that low. Jesse St. James was ancient history. Rachel had heard that he moved to L.A. after graduation. _Good riddance._

A locked slammed behind us and Brittany stalked past us, her feet hitting the ground hard as she went. She wasn't her usual self, gliding on air and smiling as if her whole world was made of rainbows and fuzzy ducks. She looked positively pissed off, and I was sure it had everything to do with Santana and Puck. Speaking of which, those two didn't linger to talk. Santana practically dragged Puck in the opposite direction, without looking back.

I sighed and turned to Rachel. "I have only one stable thing in my life right now," I told her, tapping her nose gently. "And that is you. Thank you for being an amazing girlfriend." She kissed me then, and all was right with the world.

Well, no actually, things were pretty screwed up with all of our friends. But I could still pretend, right?


	2. Part One: Quinn

_Quinn_

I shoved my fingertips into my eyes, trying desperately not to cry. I couldn't remember a more painful first day of school. Life had actually been _easier_ when I was _pregnant_. At least being pregnant had given me something to look forward to. Now I had lost everything.

I, Quinn Fabray, was no longer a Cheerio, and not for lack of trying. It was just evil for Coach Sylvester to hold tryouts the week before we went back to school so that she could put the list up on our first day. I wasn't sure if I would be reinstated as the captain, but I'd been certain that I was going to make the squad. Turned out, I was wrong on both accounts.

"Coach!" I stormed into her office, clad my uniform, and put my hands on my hips. She looked up from writing in her journal (which I only know about after stealing it once) to study me, peering critically over her glasses. Removing them slowly, she pursed her lips.

"Q," she acknowledged me with a nod. "I've been expecting you."

"I'm back down to my pre-pregnancy weight," I began, approaching her desk and barely resisting the urge to slam it with my fist. "I gave my baby up for adoption. I'll quit the stupid glee club if that's what you really want from me. Just put me back on the squad."

"Ah, Q…" She rested back in her chair, smiling calmly at me, only making me angrier. "I wish I had that on tape. You'd give up your precious little glee club just to be a Cheerio once again. Will Schuester's greasy hair would curl if he - oh wait, that's right…"

I bit my lip and looked at my shoes.

"Fact is," she went on. "Having the baby seems to have affected your form, Q. When you fumbled the landing on your double back handspring, back tuck during tryouts, that sealed the deal for me. What's done is done. You didn't make the cut."

I balled my hands into fists and let out a scream in frustration. I wanted nothing more than to leap across her desk and strangle her. This had nothing to do with my abilities! She was getting even with me for everything - for getting pregnant, for joining glee club, for having the nerve to stand up to her.

"Becky Jackson can't do those stunts, yet you let her be on the team," I pointed out, with as much restraint as I could muster.

But Coach Sylvester fixed me with a cold stare, letting me know I had just crossed the line with that comment. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I turned to leave. What was the point? There was no way she was letting me back on that squad."

"Oh, and Q?"

I looked over my shoulder, wondering what she could possibly say to me now. Going to taunt me about having a baby at sixteen? Wasn't ruining my life and throwing me off the Cheerios enough?

"Get that uniform dry cleaned and returned to me by tomorrow."

And with a cry of anguish, I hurried out of there as fast as I could, leaving all my dignity behind in her office. I ran blindly down the halls, which were thankfully empty. I had lost everything.

You may think that I was overreacting, that losing Cheerios isn't losing everything. But it isn't just Cheerios. I lost my boyfriend, my social status, and my daddy all in one year. My parents had just finalized their divorce, sealing the deal that I was truly a divorce kid. The hardest part was that I knew I was responsible for all of it. When I told my parents I was pregnant, my dad immediately kicked me out, but my mom hadn't wanted to go along with it. I was certain that this had been the final nail in the coffin of their failed marriage. Me.

The worst part was losing _her_. I missed my baby girl.

The tears fell quickly as I ran. I had intended to make it to my car so that I could cry there, away from prying eyes as I always did. I could only hope that Terri Schuester wouldn't be waiting to ambush me this time. But I didn't make it to my car because I nearly toppled over a person who only came up to my waist.

Artie put out his hands to catch me before I landed in his lap. We both began apologizing, even though neither of us was at fault for turning the corner of the hall at the very same time. When I straightened up, I saw that he had gotten a good luck at my face and could see that I had been crying.

"I heard you broke up with Puck."

"I heard that Tina broke up with you."

We both stood, or rather _I _stood, there awkwardly for a few seconds, neither of us knowing what to say after that. It wasn't as though I often sought out Artie for deep, intimate conversation. And yet, he had caught me at my most vulnerable. Finally, Artie was the first to speak.

"I came to get a look at the New Directions sign up sheet," he said, and I mentally thanked him for not mentioning the tears in my eyes. He pointed and I realized that were standing right by the bulletin board. I had to look away. The Cheerios list was posted on that board.

He seemed to realize what I couldn't bring myself to look at. "Oh," he said, without meeting my eyes. "I'm really sorry, Quinn."

"Yeah, well," I swiped angrily at my cheek, annoyed that I had let myself openly cry over it. "Coach Sylvester says my tumbling wasn't up to par, but I'm not that stupid. I know I ruined the reputation of the Cheerios by getting pregnant."

"I'm sorry," he said, and I felt ridiculous, telling my problems to the kid in the wheelchair, the kid that was, oddly enough, not doing his usual impression of Steve Urkel with his wardrobe. He actually looked kind of stylish, but I couldn't be bothered to mention that.

"And, yes, I did break up with Puck," I went on, figuring it didn't matter any more. Artie had shown up at the wrong time, and now he would have to hear all of it. "And I'm the mean, heartless one because he told me he loved me. But I can't do it. I don't want to be with the guy who got me pregnant. I'm just not that into him."

Artie avoided my eyes and played with those yellow and black gloves. I knew he had to wear those things, although they looked slightly more appropriate with his black shirt than they had with those boring, white dress shirts. I sighed impatiently, wishing that the geek would say _something. _

"Would you like me to write your name on the list for glee?" I finally asked, knowing full well that he couldn't reach the list from where he sat.

He didn't answer right away. And then, meeting my eyes, he shook his head slowly. "I can't do it," he said, almost in a whisper. "I can't watch Tina and Mike every day. I was lucky enough not to have them in my classes. If I bail out of glee this year, I might be able to avoid them altogether."

"Well, bailing on glee doesn't sound like a bad idea to me," I said, putting my hands on my hips and looking at the sign up sheet. There were people I wanted to avoid as well. Every single member of New Directions had already put their names on the list, save for Artie and myself. There were a couple of new names on the list, too. Some guy named Sam and some girl named Charice.

"You want to bail out, too?" Artie asked, looking at me, incredulously. "Quinn, if you didn't make Cheerios, glee is all you've got. Hate to point that out, but… yeah."

"You have the sensitivity of a blunt axe, Wheels."

He shrugged. "I try." Artie was kind of cute when he wasn't all buttoned up and formal. This slouchy, emo boy look was kind of becoming on him. But no sense in telling him that, it would just make him conceited. And I was sick of talking to conceited boys.

"I saw the way you looked at them," I finally said, thinking back to that dance and Artie's face when Tina and Mike waltzed right in front of him. Maybe it was the hormones, but it kind of broke my heart. He knew I had noticed because of the way I'd touched his shoulder. "It's killing you, isn't it?"

Another shrug. "If I were a better boyfriend, I could have changed things," he said, looking as though it cost him a lot to admit this. "But I wasn't, and so it is what it is. I had my chance with Tina, and now Mike gets to have her. I'll be fine as long as I'm not forced to watch."

I looked at that list again. There was no way in hell I could stand to be in the same room with Puck and Santana and Finn and Rachel. I thought of the happy couples, still innocently enjoying their teen romances, tragically unaware of real consequences like an unplanned pregnancy. Or how about a messy divorce? Being pregnant had aged me. I was wise beyond my years.

Beside that list was another list. As I studied it, my face suddenly broke out into a grin. _Little Shop of Horrors. _The theatre department was doing my favorite show. When I was fourteen, we took a family vacation to New York City. I wanted to see something on Broadway and Daddy insisted this show was the one to see. I was skeptical. I wanted to see something like _Phantom of the Opera_ or _Chicago_, but it was Daddy's birthday so we went to the one he had chosen. It turned out to be an amazing show, hilarious and heartwarming, complete with a big giant plant in the finale.

I wrote down both of our names to audition.

"QUINN!" Artie's eyes bulged out of his skull. "I don't want to be in a musical. Are you insane?" With a roll of his eyes, he took off down the hallway. But he didn't understand. I had to make him see it my way. I took off running after him, reaching out to grab his wheelchair by the handles. But Artie had put a kink in my plan. I now had to get in front of him to stop him.

"Why doesn't your wheelchair have handles anymore?"

He blinked in confusion, possibly offended by the way I'd just jumped in front of him, grabbing him by the knees. But he said nothing of it and answered my question instead.

"I got a new one this summer," he said, with a shrug. "I didn't want handles anymore."

"Oh." It seemed like a stupid choice. What if he got tired? There wasn't a good way for someone else to push him now. "Well, uh, neat. Listen, you have to do this musical with me. You _have _to. You _are _Seymour Krelborn. And I happen to think I'd make a pretty great Audrey."

Artie scowled. "I don't appreciate the comparison, Quinn," he said. "Seymour's a super nerd. I've… changed."

"_Please_ do this with me, Artie!" I didn't know why, but I felt the need to beg him. I just needed a push from someone to step out of my comfort zone for this, and besides, he really would look the part when he was back in his suspenders and bow ties.

Artie didn't answer right away, but I could tell the idea was starting to appeal to him. Surely, he had to see this as an appropriate replacement for glee club. On one of the many occasions that Man Hands had quit, she'd opted to audition for the musical, too. Finally, he sighed, as though it were painful to admit that it could actually be a good idea.

"Alright, I'm in."


	3. Part One: Puck

_Puck_

DILF, that's me. As far as I'm concerned, being a dad doesn't make me any less of a bad ass. If anything, it only makes me more intimidating.

Quinn rejected me shortly after Beth was born, something I still don't understand. She'd asked me if I loved her, and I told her, "Yes. Especially now." We had a moment. I thought, even though we were giving Beth away, that we could still be together. Turns out, Q still thought of me as a Lima Loser, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

I've visited Beth with her new mom, Shelby, every Monday since she was three weeks old. We have an open adoption, which is a pretty good arrangement. I felt like it was important for me to see Beth because Shelby wasn't in a relationship, hence, Beth wouldn't have a man in her life if I didn't visit her. Now that school had started, I had to go a little later. I'd worked it out so that I could show up when Beth was waking up from her afternoon nap. Sure enough, I arrived after my first day of school to find her wide awake, sitting in her infant swing and holding up her head. It seemed like she did something new every time I stop by. Every day taught her something new.

"Hi, Bethy-girl!" She made that cute baby sound that let me know she was glad to see me as I picked her up out of the swing. I know I don't exactly look like a bad ass when I'm holding Beth, but that's okay. There are more important things than an image. And my Beth is pretty important to me.

Shelby stepped into the room, carrying two glasses of iced tea and some popcorn. I looked up and grinned, Beth cradled in my arms. "You look like a natural," she said, smiling as she set the tray on the coffee table. Then, looking more serious, she asked, "When is Quinn going to come and visit?"

I frowned, studying Beth's little face. She sure did resemble Quinn. She didn't really have many of my features, other than maybe my chin or my nose or something. It was hard to tell on a baby. "She still says she can't," I told Shelby, almost apologetically.

Shelby sighed. "It can't be easy for her, I worry," she said, picking up her glass of tea and taking a sip. "Post-partum depression is a very real and very scary issue. I worry that not having the baby to take care of after everything she's been through makes her especially prone to that issue. You're keeping track of Quinn, I hope?"

"As much as I can," I said, tickling Beth's little tummy and delighting in her infectious smile. She didn't just smile when she had gas now. She was really becoming a sociable girl. "You know she dumped me. It's kind of hard to keep track of your ex-girlfriend without looking like a stalker."

Shelby was a pretty great mother. She had quit her job as Vocal Adrenaline's coach so that she could spend more time with Beth. Her new job as a yoga instructor was much more laid back. Beth got to stay in the fitness center's day care while Shelby worked. In between classes, Shelby was able to play with Beth and check up on her. Plus, she'd moved out of her apartment and into a tiny house in a good neighborhood. See what I mean? Shelby was already giving Beth a good life. I just hated to think that Quinn's attitude was put a damper on Shelby's experience as a first-time mother.

Eventually, I handed Beth over to Shelby and helped myself to tea and popcorn. After that, it was time for me to clean the pool. Shelby's new house had a pool, and I was cleaning it for free. I felt like it was the least I could do, seeing as she was taking care of my kid for me. (Maybe it was wrong for me to still think of Beth as _my _kid. But until she had a new dad, I just couldn't help myself.)

My pool cleaning business was so busy this summer that I'd actually enlisted some extra help from Matt and Mike. They paid me a portion of their earnings since they were technically working for _my _clients, and I was available to expand my business in the meantime. I was raking in the dough like crazy. Sometimes I couldn't help but think that if I'd had money like this last year, Quinn wouldn't have given away our baby.

But, whatever, Beth belonged to Shelby.

Cleaning pools always gave my mind a rest. And let's face it, between fight club, two-a-day football practices, and glee club auditions, I was pretty worn out. Yes, I had to re-audition for the glee club. Mr. Schuester insisted that everybody do it so that we wouldn't get lazy and careless, I guess. I wasn't really worried about not making it, but I felt like I deserved more solos this year. I'd started working on this really great number with Santana. We were going to blow everyone away at auditions and prove ourselves to Mr. Schue.

I was dating Santana now. Both of us grew up a little over the summer, and she was a better girlfriend now. Plus, she was on birth control. There were advantages to dating a woman with experience. I couldn't go through a teen pregnancy again. And I couldn't clean any more pools for free either.

As I changed the filter, I heard the back door slam. I looked up to see Shelby pushing Beth out in her little stroller. "We're going for a walk soon," she explained. "Beth got a little cranky when you left, Noah, and I figured she'd want to see you one more time before we left. I brought you another glass of tea."

"Thanks," I said, straightening up. I'd removed my shirt since, although school had started, it still felt like summer. I took the glass and downed it all in one gulp, taking a seat on one of the pool chairs with my back to Shelby. I scanned the water to evaluate the work I'd just done. "Well, your pool's clean. When Beth gets big enough to walk, I know of a company that makes great fences for pools. You should probably think about that, you know."

"I will," I heard Shelby say. Then, without warning, she put her hands on my shoulders and began rubbing them. I jumped up as if I'd been bitten, and she backed off.

Quinn had once accused me of using my visits as an excuse to "conquer another cougar." I'd gotten really angry, actually raising my voice at Q for saying such a thing. It's one thing to accuse me of something that's true, like slashing Vocal Adrenaline's tires. But I can't handle being falsely accused of shit I wouldn't do.

But it looked like I had conquered the cougar anyway.

"I should go," I said, as Shelby cast her eyes down at the pavement and nodded. I gathered up my equipment, leaned over Beth's stroller to give her tiny cheek a kiss, and excused myself by heading out the gate.

Once I reached the street, I took off at a sprint. It wasn't fair. Why was I always the bad guy? I _wasn't_ such a bad guy, if people would just give me a chance and stop accusing me of things. I ran and ran until I reached Santana's house. She lived fairly close to Shelby now, and I knew she'd be getting home from Cheerios practice.

"Noah, what is it?" Santana, until recently, had called me Puck. I'd asked her to start using my real name. It just seemed a little more romantic, more normal. I was trying to do right by Santana this time.

Panting, I hunched over to catch my breath. "Nothing," I lied. "Can I hang out at your place for awhile?"

"Sure," she said, without any more questions. "Ugh, disgusting, you're drenched in sweat. You aren't staying at my place without showering first. You can borrow clothes from Carlos."

Carlos was Santana's older brother. Altogether, she had five siblings. The sheer number of people under one roof made life at the Lopez house interesting, as well as enabling Santana to fly under the radar. She and I could make love in her room for hours if we wanted to without interruption. Everyone in the Lopez family did their own thing and left each other alone. They were a weird family, but at the same time, a good family.

So I hit the shower while Santana went to the kitchen to make brownies. It was cute how Santana always wanted to have something ready for me to eat when I came over. She claimed she'd inherited this personality trait from her mother. Santana would be a good mom someday, I was sure of it.

Once I was in the shower, I mentally relived the whole ordeal with Shelby. I couldn't figure out if I'd accidentally hit on her at any point in time. As far as I could tell, the crazy cougar came up with the idea herself. I was actually beginning to rethink my love for cougars. Maybe having the money to afford a girl my own age was changing my mind. I wasn't really sure. I just felt used, cheap. Was this what it was like to be a woman?

In spite of everything, nothing was going to keep me away from Beth. Her tiny face filled my mind until I could think of nothing else. Seeing her smile chased away all the bad thoughts I'd been thinking. One day, I'd get a second chance at all this. One day, I'd do right by my own daughter.

One day.


	4. Part One: Rachel

_Rachel_

I think I know selfishness when I see it.

"Would you two mind explaining just what it is you think you're doing?" I looked between the two faces of my former teammates, thoroughly disgusted at the both of them. After all we'd been through to keep New Directions alive, they were just going to throw in the towel, and all because of their petty little relationship drama.

Artie bit his lip, looking slightly less certain than Quinn, who leaned menacingly across my desk as if to threaten me. I caught sight of our study hall teacher, Mr. Durkett, hovering behind Quinn and looking nervous. The watery eyed little man reminded me of a rodent, and I knew from experience that he wouldn't do anything. People had actually been slushied _in _his class before. And by people, I mean me.

"You are a filthy, little hypocrite," Quinn shot back as she sneered at me. "Artie and I aren't doing anything that you didn't do yourself. Maybe we're tired of being your back up singers. The leading roles of this particular show are practically ours already."

"I will admit," I countered quickly. (First tactic: flattery.) "That I had my reservations about the both of you being in glee with us last year, you being pregnant, Quinn, and you in your wheelchair, Artie. But both of you far exceeded my expectations. Quinn, I don't know how you managed to dance right up until the day you delivered, but you never slowed down. And Artie, the way you executed those moves in your wheelchair was anything but distracting. I will admit to being concerned about that at first. But if anything, it only impressed the judges even more!"

"I just can't," said Artie, practically in a whisper. His eyes pleaded with me, begging me to understand. But I didn't. I knew it was all because of Tina and Mike, yes, but his situation wasn't anything new to me. I'd been subjected to watching Quinn steal Finn away from me last year. And then, when I thought I'd take a chance on Noah, she stole him, too. If she hadn't been waddling by the time Jesse came into the picture, who knows what would have happened?

"But think of your _other _friends, Artie," I said, turning my attention to him. (Next tactic: Divide and conquer.) "Think of Kurt and Mercedes, when they find out you ditched glee for some musical because you're too chicken to stand up to Tina's attempts to make you jealous."

In hindsight, _stand up_ was not the best choice of wording.

This worked for reasons I didn't expect. "You really think she's just trying to make me jealous?"

"Don't go giving him false hope," Quinn hissed, glaring angrily at me before jerking her chair around to square up with Artie. "Artie, I am telling you this as a friend, okay? So don't shoot the messenger. Mike Chang is way out of Tina's league. The fact that she's even managed to hold his attention for this long is, quite frankly, shocking. Mike is very picky about who he dates. He and Tina are the real deal. The sooner you realize this and get on with your life, the better."

Artie visibly swallowed, taking in what amounted to, in my opinion, an unnecessary amount of blunt honesty. And then he turned to me. "Sorry, Rachel, but I'm not trying out this year. But hey, you have an extra guy and an extra girl trying out anyway. So you don't even need us."

"But we _want_ you," I told him, standing up indignantly as the bell sounded. Study hall was over. My time was up. Artie and Quinn would now be heading to the auditorium to try out for the musical while the rest of us went to the choir room to audition for New Directions.

The worst part was that_ I_ had to be the one to break the news to Mr. Schuester, who was already well aware that Quinn and Artie hadn't added their names to the list, as well as the rest of New Directions. When I entered with the news, the mood was just as I had expected. It was worse, actually. (If I hadn't been so depressed myself, I would have been slightly offended. I didn't remember getting this reaction myself on the one or two occasions that I had taken a temporary leave of absence.)

Tina burst into tears.

"I never (hiccup) m-m-meant to m-m-make him… quit!" she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. Mike put his arms around her shoulders to console her. We were all kind of used to Tina's crying by now, but it was worse when she was crying on account of Artie. I suspected her heart was still a little torn between the two boys, considering I knew the feeling all too well. (And, in my case, it had once been three.)

"No one _made _Artie quit," Mr. Schuester said, kneeling in front of Tina and patting one of her hands gently. "Or Quinn, for that matter. We can only hope they'll change their minds. In the meantime, we have auditions to hold. Are you going to be able to pull yourself together and sing today, Tina?"

She continued crying and hiccupping, but nodded miserably anyway.

"Great," Mr. Schuester said, in a tone that implied things were anything but great. I could tell that the news of losing Artie and Quinn was putting a damper on his spirits, too. "Well, who's up first?"

I fully intended to go first, knowing that it was preferable to either be first or last. And since I didn't really want to sit through eleven other performances that day, first was the better option. But before I could get my hand up to volunteer, someone else stood up in the back of the room with _her _hand raised high.

"Mr. Schuester?" she spoke up, the slight hint of an accent apparent in her voice already. "I'm very nervous about auditioning for the first time. Would it be alright if I went first today?"

"That would be great…" Mr. Schue checked his clipboard for the names of the two newcomers. "Charice. Come on up and take it away."

"Take _what_ away?" Brittany still wanted to know.

As this Charice made her way to the front of the room and handed Brad her sheet music, I turned to Finn for answers. "Who is she? Is she a freshman? Is she new?"

"Charice is a foreign exchange student," Finn explained, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "She's from the Philippines. Rumor has it, she's a really amazing singer. She was almost famous over there. She had an album and everything..."

I had heard enough. Already, I was feeling sick, and Charice hadn't even sung a note yet. I braced myself for what was to follow. From the instant she opened her mouth to belt out the first few notes, there was absolutely no disagreeing with her talent. She sounded well-trained for sure, but possessed the natural abilities that some trained singers lacked. With perfect pitch, she belted out Celine Dion's "It's All Coming Back to Me Now." And not only did she sing with flawless execution, the theatricality and artistic merit was exquisite. My goosebumps were getting goosebumps.

Everyone was looking at me for a reaction, probably expecting that I would storm out at the end of the song. But if Quinn and Artie's sudden departure had taught me anything, it was that a _team _needed _all _of its members. We'd already almost lost New Directions once, and I wouldn't let it happen again. So instead of getting upset, I chose to smile and applaud. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Finn appreciated my change of heart.

Taking it a step further, I rose out of my chair and met Charice as she moved to take her seat. "That was _amazing_," I told her, genuinely, just as I had done the time Mercedes had beaten me. "You have an incredible voice, Charice."

Charice, in turn, looked me up and down. "You are Rachel Berry?" I nodded. She added, softly so that no one but I would hear. "Well, Rachel Berry. Top _that_."

I was speechless. I should have known, should have seen it coming. She was, as Finn had reported, practically a famous pop star in the Philippines. We were dealing with a _diva_, the type who would probably storm out herself if either Mercedes or I were fortunate enough to claim a solo this year. This did not look good.

Charice, as well as the boy presently sitting with his arm around Kurt, would have to be our eleventh and twelfth members. Even if the boy sounded like Bob Dylan, he was in. Without Charice and this new boy, there would _be _no glee club this year. And haven't I mentioned that I'm a little bit psychic? We were one diva storm out away from disqualification.

I wasn't going down without a fight, and the best way for me to fight was by using my voice. I handed _my _music to Brad. Having prepared several selections in advance, it had been my intention to wait until the very last second to settle on a number for my audition. This tactic is daring, but clever.

I hadn't been this nervous in a very long time. But I looked at Finn, feeling comforted when I thought of how he'd greeted me before school on our first day. He had said that I was the one stable thing in his life right now. And yet, I felt so utterly unstable when I considered the possibility that this Charice might be better than I was. Even still, Finn's beautiful smile could bring me through this. I thought of how he'd smiled crookedly and told me he loved me right before our performance at Regionals. My nerves had been rattled by Aural Intensity's sneak attack, but his presence was enough to bring back my confidence. It was still enough.

Without breaking eye contact, I sang my heart out to Finn:

_There were nights when the wind was so cold. That my body froze in bed if I just listened to it right outside the window…_

Afterwards, I sat down to the thunderous applause of my fellow glee clubbers, feeling a bit shaky as I did so. Normally, I'm quite secure in my ability to sing that particular song, the very same selection that Charice had chosen, but I wasn't entirely convinced that I had sung it better today.

I didn't know, that is, until Kurt Hummel came and told me himself that _I _had sung it better. I never have and never will receive a greater compliment than that. I tried to hug him, but he freaked out a little bit. Instead, we settled on a hand shake.


	5. Part One: Artie

A/N: _Little Shop of Horrors _is not mine. I have used part of the script to describe the audition scene for you. If you want to hear selections from this awesome show, I suggest searching on You Tube. Artie was born to play Seymour.

* * *

_Artie_

I was having a hard time focusing on the script in my hands. It was distracting to know that while Quinn and I were in the auditorium waiting to audition for the musical, all of our friends were in the choir room, auditioning for glee club. I wondered how Tina was taking the news of my leaving. It wasn't as if I'd talked to her about it or anything. Bitterly, I assured myself she wouldn't even miss me. She and Mike looked pretty happy with their new relationship.

Quinn and I were going to be the last pair auditioning for the lead roles. _Little Shop of Horrors _is a personal favorite of mine ever since I saw the hilarious movie starring Rick Moranis (of _Honey, I Shrunk the Kids) _in the leading role of Seymour Krelborn, the unlikely hero who accidentally creates a monster. When Quinn informed me that she'd seen it on Broadway, I was crazy with jealousy.

"Quinn, I'm nervous," I blurted out, as we prepared to take the stage for our audition. I'd just watched four other couples do the dialogue and the song, and each couple had imposed their own interpretation. Regardless, the scene was getting pretty old. Surely, our teacher had to be tired of it by now."I don't know how to act. I've never tried it before. What if I just look awkward?"

"Well, Seymour is _supposed _to look awkward."

"Should we change the lyrics to the song?" I wondered aloud, moving onto my next concern. "They sing, 'Suddenly, Seymour is _standing _beside you. I'm going to be sitting, of course. Wouldn't that look kind of silly? Should we sing something like, 'Suddenly, Seymour is right here beside you?'"

Quinn made a face. "No, I don't think so," she said, assuredly. "Because to me, it's a metaphor. And besides, it'll be ironic. The audience might find the irony of it humorous, especially if we ham it up with some funny faces. Not to, you know, kill it or anything. Just subtle expressions, that's all. You make hilarious faces all the time, Artie, I've seen them. Just go up there, don't worry about anything, and be yourself."

Did Quinn Fabray just exhibit an appreciation for artistic irony? I contemplated the likelihood that I was dreaming. I smiled, watching her study her script out of the corner of my eye. Even if she was potentially only using me as the perfect Seymour to her Audrey, there was the distinct possibility that we would become real friends through this experience. Maybe, like Seymour, I was what Quinn needed to keep her from making bad choices again.

"Artie Abrams and Quinn Fabray."

I was glad I'd chosen to use our bake sale money for ramps in the auditorium. It would have been detrimental to my nerves if I had been carried onstage to audition. I rolled to the center of the stage as Quinn transformed herself into Audrey, no longer carrying herself with confidence but now acting as though she had just been beaten up by her jerk of a boyfriend. She perched on the chair, touching her cheekbone as though hiding a bruise.

I shed Artie Abrams and transformed myself into... Seymour.

"Don't you waste another minute thinking about that creep!" I demanded, wheeling closer to Audrey and hovering over her with concern. "There's a lot of guys that'd give anything to go out with you. Nice guys."

"I don't deserve a nice guy, Seymour," Audrey whimpered (and I had to admit, Quinn played the part well).

"That's not true!"

"You don't know the half of it," she cried, miserably. "I've led a terrible life! I deserve a creep like Orin Scrivello, D.D.S. You know where I met him? In The Gutter."

"The Gutter?"

"The Gutter," she supplied. "It's a nightspot. I worked there on my nights off when we weren't making much money. I'd put on cheap and tasteless outfits. Not nice ones like this." (Here, the audience would laugh because she'd still be dressed in something cheesy and tight.) "Low and nasty apparel."

"That's all behind you now," I said, reaching out and patting her hand. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with amazement. Quinn was really selling it. I could only hope I was playing my part well. "You're a very nice person. I always knew you were. Underneath the bruises and the handcuffs, you know what I saw? A girl I respected. And I still do."

_Lift up your head, wash off your mascara, here, take my Kleenex, wipe that lipstick away. Show me your face, clean as the morning. I know things were bad. But now they're okay... Suddenly Seymour is... standing beside you..."_

I hammed it up a bit and pulled a face. Sure enough, it prompted the audience to chuckle, just enough to get their attention but not take away from the song itself. I sang the first part, then sat back and admired Quinn as she came in on her cue. She sang differently than she did in glee club since she was playing a character. Audrey's voice is supposed to be slightly subdued, a little bit whiny even. But then when it came to the glory notes, Quinn brought down the house. I had never properly admired Quinn Fabray's voice.

_"... Learn how to be more the girl that's inside me. With sweet understanding (with sweet understanding), with sweet understanding! Seymour's... your... man!"_

As we finished the song out together, our voices blending better than I ever thought possible, Mr. Marshall jumped to his feet, followed by several other people in the crowd, including kids who were auditioning for the lead roles. Quinn smiled a smile that I don't believe I've seen since before the news of her pregnancy broke out. As for me, it was exhilarating to find myself in the spotlight. I could get used to this. Quinn leaned over to kiss my cheek, then spoke into my ear. "They _love _us, Artie!"

So many people congratulated Quinn and I on our way out the door that it was difficult to leave. Quinn had forgotten her purse in all the excitement and ran back to get it while I pushed my way into the hallway. And stopped.

Leaning against the wall, apparently waiting for me, was Tina. I considering brushing right by her for just a fraction of a second before I realized that, whatever she had done to me now, she still didn't deserve that. It was still through complete fault of my own that I found myself without a girlfriend. Unfortunately, knowing now what I had done wrong still didn't fix all the mistakes I'd made.

"You and Quinn were amazing up there," she began, pushing off the wall with her foot and standing over me a bit awkwardly before deciding to perch on the ledge beside the wall instead. She knew it was always easier for me to talk with her if we were on the same level.

"You came to see us?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly at her.

"When you didn't show up in the choir room," she answered. "I had to find out what was so great about this musical to make you give up your spot in New Directions. By the way, we have twelve members. Exactly twelve. But if these new members flake out on us? Or if Brittany flunks her classes? We're screwed."

"So be nice to the new kids and get Brittany a tutor."

Tina narrowed her eyes at me. "You know what I mean..." Trailing off, she studied me closely, then rose from her seat to circle my chair. I watched her, feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny. "The new clothes, the new chair without any handles? What does it all mean, Artie?"

"It _means _I'm not the same guy you dumped three months ago," I shot back, a hint of resentment evident in my tone. "And as for the chair without handles, why should you or anyone else be allowed to push me around? I can push myself. I can do a _lot more _than you or anyone else ever thought I could!"

I had been harsh, I knew it. To her credit and to my enormous relief, Tina did not cry. She drew in a sharp breath and nodded, forcing a smile upon her face. "I'm glad to hear you saying that."

"I... I'm working on... my issues."

"My issues" were the root of the problems in our relationship. After I'd forgiven her for lying about her stutter, we'd started our relationship out on a shaky and uncertain foundation. I was still trying to figure out who she was and how we'd relate, now that the truth had come out What I did realize was that she possessed one very special quality I wanted in a girl, an uncanny ability to see beyond my disability.

And yet, ironically, I couldn't seem to stop reminding her that I was in the chair, that I was different. We watched movies like _Coming Home _and _Avatar _and _At First Sight_, movies that starred disabled young men falling in love with women. I complained about not being able to ice skate or take her swing dancing, as if complaining would change the fact that she could do nothing about it. Finally, she got so fed up that she pointed out what I was doing. And instead of taking that criticism like a man and changing my ways, I reacted by getting angry and defensive. We were broken up before I could say the word 'wheelchair.'_  
_

Before she could reply, we were interrupted by Quinn, who came bounding into the hallway.

"Artie, we did it!" she exclaimed, breathlessly. "When I went back to get my purse, Mr. Marshall approached me. He said he was having difficulty casting the other parts in the show, but that he was absolutely set on the leading roles. He's giving us the parts, Artie! We're Seymour and Audrey!"


	6. Part One: Mercedes

_Mercedes_

I guess I've just acquired the reputation of being the wise black girl in glee club. One by one, they've all started coming to me for advice about different areas of their lives. With school back in session, I'd lined up several different counseling appointments just for the first week. And now Kurt Hummel wanted a slot.

First, Tina had come to me about problems with Artie. Apparently, she took his decision not to rejoin New Directions very personally. I took her shopping at Hot Topic, splurged on frozen yogurt with her, and spent hours upon hours trying to convince her that Wheels was a big boy who made his own choices. Furthermore, they'd broken up, she'd allowed some time for the dust to settle, and she was perfectly entitled to date Mike Chang if wanted.

A few days later, I was seated across from Quinn splitting a pizza and listening to her baby mama drama. She knew that Puck was visiting Beth frequently, but she had yet to make even one appearance at her daughter's new home. It was killing her to let the time pass by, but at the same time, she feared the possibility that seeing Beth would make her regret the choice to give her baby away.

None of these counseling sessions were helping me with my diet. Yes, my diet. Over the summer, I'd been to fat camp again. I go every summer, and every summer, I spend a month being really active, eating really well, and meeting great people who went through the same struggles as me. I always managed to lose weight, but keeping it off is the real battle. This time, I'd returned to Lima at the end of the summer a staggering thirty pounds lighter. I purchased a few items to get me through the summer without borrowing suspenders from Artie. (Ha.) I say _get me through the summer _because I already knew what was going to happen. My body rebels against what my brain wants. My brain wants my body to stay thin(ner), but my body has its own ideas about that. My body is forever striving to go back to its natural state.

I was fat again before I knew it.

I fully blame one Kurt Hummel for the fact that I'd returned to my bad habits and given up on my strict exercise routine faster than you can say 'cupcake.' More specifically, I ought to blame Kurt's new boyfriend, the one that he called me in the middle of camp to tell me about. I remembered all too well when he gave me the news that I hadn't expected to hear until he was in college and far, far away from Lima.

"How's camp?" he'd said, and without waiting for an answer: "Guess-what-I-have-a-boyfriend-his-name's-Sam-he's-so-amazing!"

"Camp's good, I've lost ten pounds already… a boyfriend? Did you go on vacation or something?"

"_No!" _Kurt positively giggled. His laugh was so girlish, especially right now, and it always kind of made me laugh. It was hard to believe I'd once had a crush on the guy. "I found him right here in town! Well, he goes to this private school on the outskirts of town, this all-boys academy. He says a lot of the guys are gay, but they just don't go public about it. I fixed his car, and he asked me to dinner. I don't know how he figured out I was gay, too, I didn't even tell him…"

I was treated to a full description of Sam. He sounded like a blond surfer, which was, as I soon learned, exactly the type of guy Kurt had imagined for himself. Kurt hadn't told his dad yet because he knew Mr. Hummel was still going to have a tough time getting use to the idea. Mr. Hummel was just now getting used to the idea that he had a gay son, and Kurt was sensitive enough to give his father the time to adjust.

Naively, I expected that Kurt wouldn't be like Tina, who I'd barely seen since she started dating Mike. But much to my dismay, Kurt was just like a girl when it came to boyfriends. He came to see me on the day I returned from camp, complimented me on my weight loss, introduced me to his beau, and disappeared off the face of the planet.

With Kurt and Tina preoccupied with their significant others and Artie spending the summer in Columbus at his aunt's for mysterious reasons, I was left spending the rest of my summer with Quinn Fabray. But while Quinn shed her baby weight without effort, I slowly packed the pounds back on, making it pretty difficult to spend time with the skinny blonde. Normally, I'm pretty self-confident in my body, give or take a few moments of weakness. But seeing the weight come back after such an empowering visit to camp and not having Kurt Hummel available for moral support was painful.

So, when Kurt finally came to me with his own relationship drama, I didn't want any part of it. He hadn't sought me out in nearly a month, and now that he did, it was to talk about Sam. I was fed up.

"I really don't want to hear it," I told him, trying to ignore the look he gave me that made me feel like I'd taken one of his dad's tires and used to it flatten a small dog.

"What's gotten into you?" he wanted to know.

I spread out the blame. "Look, if I'm not listening to Tina whine about how Artie quit glee because of her, I have to console Quinn about the guilt trips she's been taking ever since Beth was born. They pay Ms. Pillsbury to do this. Just – go to her."

"But you're my friend."

I had had enough. That one comment was enough to send me over the edge. So, disregarding the fact that Matt and Brittany were within earshot of us in the choir room, I let the boy have it.

"Just like _you're _supposed to be _my _friend," I shot back, getting in his face. "Where were you, Mr. Supportive Friend, when I put on five pounds in a week? You should have been there, making me healthy food and taking trips to the gym with me."

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but noticed something behind me, and closed it. Without comment, Kurt rose, walked across the choir room and sat back down, crossing his legs and looking at the wall. I turned around to see that Sam had just arrived for glee practice. He also spotted Kurt and changed directions, opting to sit next to Puck and Santana instead. Uh-oh, I sensed trouble in paradise. And now I felt like a terrible person.

I blinked quickly and pretended I was studying the new sheet music – something else that would undoubtedly be very vanilla by the time we were done with it – while trying not to cry. Where, oh where, was someone to counsel me about _my _problems?

"Hey, Mercedes," said a voice. I looked up to find Matt Rutherford leaning over me. The boy spoke? Matt was always so quiet that it was shocking to even hear his voice. I foolishly expected him to say something more, but he just sat down and looked at me, obviously expecting that I'd take it from there. I forced myself to smile and just waved at him.

"Uh, sorry about Hummel," he went on, as if it were pretty painful for him to try and come up with additional words. "That sucks."

I just nodded and returned to my sheet music, kind of hoping Matt would leave me alone. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted Kurt and Sam to each gain double their usual body weight and be surrounded by nothing but depressed friends who wanted to eat.

"I'm told I'm a pretty good listener," he finally went on, after awkwardly pausing to see if I would say anything. "So, you know, if you need a supportive friend…"

I scoffed, not meaning to be rude. But I could hardly imagine pouring all my issues about being fat on a cute football player like Matt Rutherford. I didn't even know the first thing about him, other than the fact that he and I were the two token black kids in a ridiculously vanilla glee club.

"I also like, you know… bowling, dinner, that kind of thing," he added. "So if we could do those things and I could listen, that would be good." I stared blankly at him. "Anyway, let me know."

As Matt rose to go talk to Finn, I was left trying to figure out what had just happen. Matt had just set a personal record for number of words spoken in one sitting. I couldn't quite understand why he wanted to hear my stupid problems, although it was undeniably true that someone who never talked would make an excellent listener.

"Saw that," Brittany snuck up behind me, settling in the chair to my left. To my right, Santana suddenly appeared, also taking a seat. She put an arm around me and Brittany patted my knee.

"Saw _what?_"

"_Mercedes_," said Santana, almost mockingly. "It's so obvious Matt likes you. He just doesn't know how to, you know, talk to you."

"I even didn't know he talked," Brittany added. "He _is _a good kisser."

I turned away from Santana to Brittany. "You kissed Matt?"

"_Totally _kissed Matt," she said, smugly. "So did Santana. We had this bet to see who could kiss all of the football players first. Whoever lost had to kiss Jacob Ben Israel."

"She lost," Santana added, smirking proudly. "But leave it to Brittany to make the best of things. She just decided she'd make out with every guy in the school. I can't touch _that _record. Nor do I _want _to."

"So, Matt kissed both of _you,_" I replied, trying to sort this out. "And you think he's interested in _me?_" I turned back to Santana and fixed her with an accusing glare. "What kind of trick is this? Is this like the time you told me Kurt was interested in me?"

Brittany snorted. "You told her that?"

Santana ignored Brittany. "It's different with us now," she said, squeezing my shoulder. "We're friends or something. Just trust me, girl, he likes you."

I eyed Matt from across the room. I didn't know what to do. The last thing I could handle right now was a broken heart. It would've helped to have a best friend I could go to for advice, but all of my friends were pretty darn preoccupied. I didn't know what to do.

But Matt Rutherford was pretty cute, now that I thought about him.


	7. Part One: Kurt

A/N: To Abbie!

* * *

_Kurt_

Sam and I met in the most unlikely of places. I was certain I'd meet my first boyfriend shortly after moving to New York City, perhaps at a gay night club. Sure, it would be a cheesy place to meet someone, but it wouldn't mean we'd have to go there all the time. I'd find someone classy like me. I'd be a small fish in a big gay pond. I'd actually _have_ a pond. But instead, Sam snuck up on me while I was dressed in coveralls, covered in grease, at Hummel's Tires and Lube. He _was _every bit the classy, sophisticated guy I'd been hoping for, stuck in this cow town like me.

Dad wasn't around to meet Sam and witness his son being asked out on a date by another guy. And I, rather grateful for the fact, kept my date a secret. I managed to even hide it from Finn. I hid that date and the next one and the next one. Soon, I had covered up my whole summer romance. Sam understood. Sam had never even told his parents about being gay, having been certain that they wouldn't approve. Instead, he'd named me Kimberly, and he and Kimberly went out everyday. His parents were too busy to meet his "girlfriend," but were happy with the idea of her.

I went right up until the first day of school without anyone knowing. That was when Sam kind of snuck up on me. I'd been standing by my locker, getting my books for my first two classes, when he walked up behind me and covered my eyes. "Guess who?" he'd said, in a bad attempt at a phony voice.

"Rachel Berry," I replied, smiling to myself. But wait a minute! Sam wasn't supposed to be here! Sam went to private school, an all-boys school across town, that lucky duck. He dropped his hands, snickering without even knowing who Rachel Berry was, and I turned to come face to face with the first guy I'd ever kissed.

"What are you _doing _here?"

"I changed schools," he said, shrugging as if it were no big deal. "Mom taught at my school. That's the only reason I went there. We didn't pay for me to go. But she got a new job, which means public school for me. You thought I had a rich family, huh?"

"Well, your clothes sure do give the impression," I said, admiring his Roberto Cavalli sweater, skinny leg Diesel jeans and Puma sneakers. His style was pretty casual, but he preferred designer labels like I did. "I must say, though, I'm glad you're here."

He smiled and took a step towards me, our heads so close I thought he might kiss me in the middle of the hall. I held my breath, wondering what kind of backlash I'd face from the Neanderthals if they got a glimpse of two boys making out at McKinley High. As far as I knew, it had never happened before.

"I'm glad I'm here, too," he said, softly, reaching out to touch my hand very quickly before shoving both of his in his pockets. He seemed to know without my telling him that it wouldn't be good to be too public.

And speaking of the public, I glanced up at that very moment to spot Finn eyeing me, knowingly. Finn may seem like an egg head sometimes, but he knows how to read people and situations. I swallowed hard, knowing that my big secret was out. I'd be having a serious heart-to-heart with my future stepbrother later on.

But I was distracted from worrying about Finn by the sound of a locker slamming very close to mine. Sam and I both looked up to see Mercedes stalking away from us, without saying a word. I cringed. It had been my intention to wait at my locker for Mercedes. She must've seen Sam and me and… we really had to be more careful…

"Listen, Sam, have you ever gotten hit in the face with a slushie?"

* * *

It happened while I was on my way to my very first New Directions rehearsal. Rehearsal was sure to be bitter sweet because, although Sam had joined at my urging, we had lost Artie and Quinn to the school musical. We'd also gained this foreign exchange student named Charice, and she was more annoying than Rachel after drinking a Red Bull. She also seemed to be the type that would throw a big fit and threaten to quit if she wasn't given a solo. Rachel Berry had learned her lesson over time, and though she might look upset if she weren't the one featured, we all knew quitting was the farthest thing from her mind. But we were stuck depending on this Charice as our twelfth member, and this little minx was so volatile, it appeared she could storm out at the drop of a hat.

Despite the problems with Charice, Artie, and Quinn, I was feeling pretty good. Sam was a great dancer, maybe almost as good as Mike Chang, and his voice was a very deep baritone, which we needed after losing Artie. I was feeling good, that is, until five little words rocked my sixteen-year-old world. "Kurt, we need to talk."

I stopped two steps away from the door and looked up at Sam in alarm. He sighed and pulled me to the side, ducking into a secluded area of the hall for privacy. A grin spread across my face. "Good idea," I said. "You seem to be getting the hang of this sneaking around thing."

But he didn't crack a smile. "That's the thing, Kurt," he went on, a hint of remorse already in his voice. The smile on my face quickly vanished, a sinking feeling in my stomach already telling me what was going to happen. "I… can't… do this… sneaking around thing… anymore. It's hard enough being in this school where you have to live in fear of retaliation from the masses. But, uh, going to school with girls? I've never done that before. Kurt… maybe… maybe I'm _not _gay. I don't really know what I am. I'm only fifteen. Is that really old enough to give myself a label?"

I folded my arms across my body defensively. "I knew who I was when I was five years old," I told him. "I don't understand. You're telling me this _now_? You always seemed so sure of yourself…"

Sam scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… I'm not," he confessed, and something told me he was telling the truth. "Some girls have already started talking to me. I know a lot of them think I'm cute. I think I have to, you know, experience both sides for myself before I make a decision. And some people don't ever decide. Some people are bisexual, right? I could be that."

But I didn't want a _bisexual._ I wanted someone who knew who they were. He wasn't the boy I thought he was. Still, I couldn't blame him for letting me down. I wanted to, but I couldn't. One thing I could do was punish him for playing with my heart if he hadn't been sure. "Well, I hope you figure it out," I said, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder and pushing past him. "Goodbye."

My dramatic "goodbye" would've been more effective if Sam hadn't followed me into the choir room a few minutes later. One minor detail overlooked. To make matters worse, Mercedes was mad at me. When I tried to go to her for help with my crisis, she told me off. I'd neglected Mercedes, the first person I'd ever gone to with my secret, the person who mattered more than any boyfriend ever could. I hadn't been the supportive friend she really needed right now. How could I have let her down?

Talking to Mercedes was out of the question. I couldn't go to Dad because he didn't even know about Sam in the first place. I couldn't imagine talking to Finn about this. As I mentally scrolled through my friends, I could only think of one who might really help me. As soon as rehearsal ended, I called him.

"Hey, Artie," I said. "Listen, do you want to spend the night?"

* * *

Artie Abrams and I weren't exactly best friends, but when he started dating Tina and when we all joined New Directions last year, the four of us kind of became inseparable. Since Mercedes wasn't going to lend me a shoulder to cry on right now, Artie made the most sense. Plus, he was kind of going through the same thing I was. And I wasn't literally going to cry. Sam wasn't worth it.

Finn and Dad helped me carry Artie's chair down to the basement, a process made more complicated when we all realized that his new chair didn't have handles. I guess the new chair was part of the new look. I couldn't help but admire the changes. I'd long ago given up on Artie Abrams having any semblance of a fashion sense, but it appeared that my surrender had been premature.

Finn lived there, too, and surprisingly, he stayed home with us on a Friday night. Turns out, when Rachel found out that Artie was coming over, she insisted that he stay with us and try to talk Artie into coming back to glee club. I told Finn that he would be doing no such thing. Finn gave me no indication of his plans either way, but he _did_ try to talk Artie into playing Xbox.

"No, thanks, Call of Duty is kind of addicting," Artie said, turning down his offer to my enormous relief. I didn't need to watch the two of them yell at the TV all night. Watching Finn do it was bad enough. I rolled my eyes as Finn stuck his headset into place and returned to playing with the twelve-year-olds online. I was glad that he wasn't going to be paying attention to the conversation. Talking about my failed relationship with my first boyfriend in front of Finn was uncomfortable at best.

"Thanks again for coming over," I said, watching as Artie put the break on his chair and move himself to the floor. He grabbed a few pillows and made himself comfortable there while I sprawled out on my bed.

"No problem," he replied. "Like you said, I _do _know what you're going through, the main difference being that a girl rejected me. It seems to me that you didn't do anything wrong, though, Kurt. He's just not tough enough to be proud of who he is yet. He _is _a bit younger than you, right?"

"He doesn't really even _know_ who he is," I said, sighing and clutching the bed pillow to my chest. "I just got _so _obsessed with having a boyfriend. I think I really hurt Mercedes this summer."

Artie smiled then. "So, this is really about _girl _trouble, isn't it?" When I realized that it was, I grinned sheepishly. Artie put on a knowing smirk. "Ah, being rejected by women, the story of our lives."

"I guess so," I agreed, shaking my head. It only seemed natural that Mercedes would mean more to me than Sam did. We had a long history together, with glee and Cheerios and everything in between. "So, do you mind if I ask what went wrong with you and Tina?"

"_I_ was what went wrong," Artie said, simply, folding his hands in his lap and looking at them. "I was too focused on myself, my needs. I completely ignored hers. She tried to tell me, but I never did what I needed to change things. And now it's too late."

I sighed. I felt worse for Artie and Tina than I did for myself and Sam. I was about to offer him some consoling words of encouragement when Finn threw his hands in the air, shaking his hands in fury.

"_NOOOOO!"_

Artie and I looked at each other before we both burst out laughing.


	8. Part One: Tina

_Tina_

"And shoulder, shoulder, bounce, bounce, and up! To the moon! And shoulder, shoulder, bounce, bounce, and up! To the moon!"

Mike's minions, as I liked to call them, copied his moves while watching their reflections in the mirror. I sat in the corner of the studio, halfway mimicking the dance myself while perched on a stool. I was so impressed that he was even doing something like this. Not many kids at school had part-time jobs that didn't involve the phrase, "Would you like fries with that?"

As Mike reviewed the whole routine with his class, I stood up and grabbed my purse. When the last student headed out the door, he breathed a mock sigh of relief and moon-walked towards me. I giggled. Mike Chang was so cute, especially when he was dancing. "Ready to spend my paycheck?"

I giggled. I had a boyfriend with a paycheck? How many girls in high school could say that? I nodded eagerly and he threw his arm across my shoulders. "Whatever you want to do, Teeny."

How many girls in high school had a boyfriend who let them call the shots? Mike was a sweetheart. "Well, we might as well do what the rest of the teenagers in Lima do on a Saturday," I said, with a shrug. "So, how about the mall?"

And that was how Mike and I found ourselves in a very stereotypically teenage environment on our first Saturday since school had started. I was still lamenting my loss of summer and refusing to give up the idea of wearing shorts until the weather started to feel more like fall to me. Shorts were a new fashion statement for me, something I wouldn't have worn last summer. I don't particularly like the way my legs look in shorts, but Mike disagrees with me. So if it made him happy, I would wear my shorts until the weather no longer permitted it.

Mike even allowed me to go to Hot Topic first, which is my favorite store and the primary reason why I like the mall in the first place. One time, I tried to take Kurt in there, but he claimed he felt claustrophobic and pretended he couldn't breathe. I thought that reaction was a little dramatic, but then again, it's Kurt Hummel. Mercedes hated it almost as much as he did. Really, until Mike let me have my fun, the only person who tolerated a trip to Hot Topic had been Artie.

Speaking of which, we hadn't been there for five minutes before I spotted something I knew he would like. (Believe it or not, Artie owned a few pairs of suspenders from Hot Topic. He'd been shocked that they sold them, and even more shocked that he actually liked them.) I picked up a belt that I couldn't imagine anyone else wearing, but it was the perfect belt for Artie. The belt looked like the neck of a guitar, a much more appropriate expression of his love for music than the piano belt I'd seen him wear before. Did the new Artie even like things like this? I wasn't sure. He'd changed an awful lot this summer.

I had to stop thinking of Artie. As I examined the quirky belt, I actually thought I heard the sound of his wheels clicking. It was thoroughly upsetting, given the fact that I had every reason in the world to dump him, that he was still on my mind. Not only was Artie a terrible boyfriend, Mike was a great one. He paid attention to my needs, listened to me, and let me choose activities for our dates. And I was seriously going to repay him by thinking of my ex-boyfriend all the time?

I abandoned the guitar neck belt and went looking for Mike. I finally spotted him scanning a wall of shirts. He was empty handed and didn't make a move to grab any shirts off the racks for potential purchases. He turned to wander away from the shirts and nearly ran right into me. "Oh! Hey."

"Hi," I replied, smiling and kissing his cheek. "You don't really like it here much, do you? Why don't we check out Journeys or something? I want to get new socks, and you were looking for new Converse sneakers, right?"

He grinned. "You're sweet," he told me. "But we can take our time in here and then go to Journeys. I'm in no hurry today."

See what I mean? Self-less, that was Mike Chang. He would be content to let me stay in that store for hours. Artie would surely have dragged me off to an arcade by now.

As I was unconsciously doing yet another Artie and Mike comparison, however, I got an uninvited chance to put them side by side. Artie turned the corner in his chair, his wheels clicking as he approached us, an unreadable expression on his face. My stomach hit the floor. His expression changed to a friendly one as he and Mike greeted one another with a cordial handshake while I folded my arms across my body, wanting desperately to disappear.

"What brings you to Hot Topic?" Artie asked Mike, his eyes flickering to me. With a laugh, he added, "Nevermind, I think I already know. Hey, Tee… na." Whereas Mike called me Teeny, Artie called me Tee. Or, he used to, that is.

"Yeah, I haven't exactly found something right for the Changster," Mike told him, with a laugh. (Okay, it's slightly embarrassing when Mike refers to himself in third person and calls himself 'the Changster.') "But we just got here. I haven't given up yet."

"I found an awesome belt," said Artie, and to my surprise, he held up the same belt I had just been looking at myself. He met my eyes for another uncomfortable moment before turning to address Mike again. "So, Mike, do you like DDR?"

"DDR, you mean my favorite game?" Mike replied, grinning. "Yeah, I love it. Why do you ask?"

"Well, we don't really hang out other than school," Artie began, and he didn't have to look directly at me for me to know his motives. "Want to come over sometime? We could do DDR, or maybe go swimming at my grandparents' pool."

"Yeah, man, I'm down with that," Mike replied, as clueless as ever. I looked on, thinking that I might as well have just disappeared into the floor. Artie was doing a good job of deliberately excluding me from the conversation, and Mike hadn't even noticed. "But, um, how do you….?"

"Dance?" Artie supplied, with a chuckle. "Oh, with my hands, I play with my hands. It's really fun. You should try my way sometime. I mean, you wouldn't be able to pop 'n lock, but you might like it."

"So, Artie, what brings you to the mall today?" I interjected, determined not to let him ignore me. Artie wasn't the only person who had changed this summer. I wasn't nearly as shy as I'd been last year, thanks mostly to Mike, who was just so enthusiastic about everything that it made it impossible to be shy around him.

"Kurt's around here somewhere," he said, with a shrug. "Nowhere near this store. Something about panic attacks, I didn't really ask. I wandered in here to get some fuzzy dice for my rearview mirror. I found some, but they were out of reach. I was coming to ask an employee for help when I ran into you two."

I didn't buy it. I was certain that Artie had seen Mike and I go into the store, and had just followed us in to have his fun with us. Mike quickly offered to help Artie retrieve the dice, however, and I guess _part_ of the story was true. There was a pair of fuzzy dice that were indeed out of his reach. As Mike retrieved them, Artie thanked him and went to the counter to make his purchases. Much to my dismay, Mike wanted to wait on him in front of the store.

"_Mike_," I hissed. "No, I'd rather _not _follow Artie and Kurt around. This is supposed to be a date, isn't it? Well, what girl goes on a date with three guys?" He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. "I'm going to stop you before you say 'Brittany.' Mike, please, this is awkward."

As Artie came out of the store, a bag of his purchases in his lap, Mike seemed to see it my way at last and said, "Hey, dude, we're going to have to split. See you around at school?"

"Sure, sure, see you around," Artie agreed, giving his wheels a push and taking off in the opposite direction. I reached up to give Mike a grateful hug. I wasn't entirely sure what got into me to make me do what happened next. I caught sight of Artie glancing over his shoulder and, feeling the inexplicable urge to force a reaction out of him, I kissed Mike's lips.

When I dared to look back at Artie, he was pushing harder than he had before, in a bigger hurry to get away from me now. It was similar to the time I'd watched him speed away from me after I'd revealed the big secret about my stutter.

What I hadn't counted on was Mike.

"You did that so he would see it."

I bit my lip. _Busted._


	9. September

**_September_**


	10. October

**_October_**


	11. November

**_November_**


	12. Part Two: Finn

A/N: I'm not a "twi-hard" or anything, but I kind of enjoyed that surprising plot device, although admittedly, it's more effective when you're turning actual pages in an actual book. And some of you probably rolled your eyes at that, but I don't care. Also, please review! I had no reviews on my last chapter, and consequently, it was a little harder to write this one. /complaint

* * *

_Finn_

Rachel Berry is hot.

Having my own room in the Hummel-Hudson residence was turning out to be pretty sweet. Now that my garage conversion was complete, I'd even let Kurt help me decorate, under the stipulation that we stuck to a specific list of things I actually liked. Kurt had found a picture of this American flag created out of wooden bats and baseballs and, knowing that I would love something that combined baseball and patriotism, surprised me with it as a my official "moving out" present. I have to admit, though I feel ashamed to say it, that I was afraid Kurt would go back to flirting with me after Sam was out of the picture. But he assured me that living with me for several months pretty much sealed the deal that the days of his feelings for me were behind us. We could concentrate on being stepbrothers and real friends.

But back to my original statement, Rachel Berry _is _hot. And she was in my new private room, admiring the gift Kurt had given me, while looking pretty tempting in her pale pink blouse, plaid skirt, and knee socks. You can't go wrong with the school girl look, very 'Hit Me Baby, One More Time.' I don't care if Kurt makes fun of her clothes. _I _like them. But sometimes, the horny teenager in me can't help but imagine less of them. It only got worse when she sat on my bed.

"Finn, I thought we said we'd take it slow…." Rachel said, grabbing my hands when they traveled north from her waist as we were making out. She intercepted my roaming hands before they could travel any higher and propped herself up on her elbows to frown critically at me.

"I'm sorry," I told her, taking my hands back and wringing them nervously. "I guess it upsets me a little bit that you let that Jesse St. James go all the way, but we've been dating for months and I can't even get to second base."

"What?" Rachel said, blinking in confusion for a few seconds before heaving a great sigh. "Oh, Finn, I misled you. I should have set you straight a long time ago. Jesse and I, we didn't do anything but kiss. When I was trying to make you jealous, I told you differently. It was wrong of me to basically lie about it. I hope you can forgive me for that."

"Oh," I replied, feeling my face grow warm. "Well, um, then I guess I have a confession of my own. Santana and I, we… I lied to you, too. I did go through with it. With Santana."

"_What?_" I winced, shutting my eyes tightly as she spoke, bracing myself for the backlash. There was an awful silence as she tried apparently to process what I was telling her. When she didn't say anything else, I opened one eye and then the other.

She hit me with the stuffed frog that she'd won for me at the Halloween carnival, her lower lip sticking out.

"I _know_, I should have told you!" I cried, jumping to my own defense before she could find anything harder to throw at me. "It's been months and months, and the only thing that made me feel justified was thinking that you did it, too. Rachel, please, _please _don't hold it against me. You're still the only stable thing in my life right now."

Rachel sighed again. "I'm sure you'd never make a mistake like that again," she finally said, managing a tiny smile and reaching for my hand to give it a squeeze. I squeezed back, engulfed by her kindness. But, looking serious again, she said, "But don't expect any more action than that for a long time."

I knew I'd be punished. I was going to be relying on my mental image of hitting the mailman for many, many more months.

"Let's practice our duet for Sectionals," Rachel suggested, jumping up and retrieving her purse from the dresser. She pulled out a CD of our backing tracks, which I suspected went with her everywhere. I knew exactly what was going to happen now. We were going for a drive, and Sectionals would be our soundtrack. Because I was a good boyfriend still trying to work my way out of the doghouse, I agreed.

A few minutes later, we were in my car, belting out the lyrics to our opening number, which would once again feature Rachel and me striding down the aisles of the auditorium and hopping up onstage. We had undertaken a tribute to Broadway classics as our theme for Sectionals, after learning that one of the judges was a former Broadway singer. I guess we were taking a page out of Aural Intensity's book on this one, but seeing as we'd found out about the judge by accident, nobody felt too guilty about this. Our sources told us we needed to be ready. The Jane Addams Academy and Haverbrook School for the Deaf were stronger than ever, and there was certainly no way we could discount them, considering all the grief they'd given us last year.

I was glad when the CD ended and we could just drive and talk for awhile. "Do you think Charice is happy with having just one solo?" I asked Rachel, thinking anxiously about our new diva. "I can't help but notice that she makes an awful lot of faces when we sing the theme from Phantom."

Rachel made a face. "Well, she _did _say that 'All That Jazz' was her all-time favorite song so I'd expect her to be happy with that," she commented, adding. "_I_ would be."

"I like our song better."

"Me too," Rachel agreed, smiling as I glanced over to meet her eyes. "Given the choice of having a solo or doing a duet, I'd rather sing just about anything with you, Finn."

"_I'd_ rather you have a solo," I countered.

"Solos lack dynamics," she reasoned, with a shrug. "You're a bit limited when it's just you. But try telling Charice that. Or Sam, he seems a little full of himself sometimes. I heard him asking Mr. Schue about a solo for Regionals, and I think it might just be a matter of time before we have a male version of Charice on our hands. It's like, the rest of us, we've grown past the point of _asking _for solos. We've learned to trust Mr. Schue. I wish these new kids would catch up. Or better yet… I wish Artie and Quinn would come back to us."

I nodded. "Are you going to see their musical?"

"Oh, definitely," she replied. "It's pretty soon, isn't it? I saw Jacob Ben Israel's article in the school paper. Although, I have to admit, I almost didn't read the article based solely on the source. Why isn't someone editing his work? When he mentioned that Quinn was stunning in the leading role of Audrey, he shouldn't have been allowed to say that she was quote – 'bouncing back after last year's pregnancy scandal and the agonizing blow of not being reinstated on the Cheerios.' Also, he referred to Artie as 'Wheels' at least once. I'm pretty sure it isn't okay to put such an immature nickname in print."

I cringed. I hadn't read the article – too many words.

"Even if they did leave us hanging," I began. "I'm proud of both of them. They deserve to be in the spotlight, and I honestly think this is going to be the most entertaining musical we've ever had at McKinley. The theatre teacher, Mr. Marshall, he's new, isn't he? He's also my remedial English teacher, and the guy's really cool. He reminds me of Mr. Schue. Oh – hey, do you want a blizzard or something?"

We were passing by Dairy Queen and it had been several hours since dinner. I require a lot of food, and Rachel has been understanding about this. Knowing that the right answer to this question was _yes_, she agreed and we parked, deciding to go inside.

The place was empty except for one other couple, sitting in the corner of the restaurant. I ordered my usual large cookie dough blizzard, and Rachel ordered a simple dipped cone. We were about to take our treats to the other corner of the Dairy Queen when I realized that we were among friends in the small restaurant.

"Yo, Matt!" I called out, dragging Rachel by the hand. "Mercedes! Hey, so we're not the only ones that like to go to Dairy Queen right before it closes. Mind if we join you?"

They didn't mind and made room for us to sit down. Matt and Mercedes were sharing a banana split, although by the looks of it, he was shoveling down most of it while Mercedes took dainty little bites. Matt's need for constant feeding was similar to mine.

"Seriously, I don't want the whole thing," he was saying, in between bites. "Have more of it. I don't want to see you lose those killer curves, baby." I checked her reaction, and saw that she was smiling. Nodding, she helped herself to a bigger bite.

"It's great running into you two," Rachel commented, and I shot her a smile of gratitude. It isn't easy or natural for Rachel to socialize outside of school, but the fact that she makes the effort means a lot to me. Although people wouldn't realize it, in some ways she is as shy as Tina. "Perhaps we should plan a real double date sometime. Or even a triple date. It would be delightful to see Tina and Mike."

But Matt and Mercedes exchanged troubled glances at this. "Uh, this isn't good news, especially so close to Sectionals, but yesterday, Tina and Mike…" she trailed off, looking to Matt for support.

"… made like a banana and split," Matt finished, helpfully, glancing at their dessert. Mercedes bit her lip at first, but then burst out laughing, shoving Matt playfully.

"More New Directions relationship drama?" I couldn't help but be concerned. The last time glee couples had split up, we'd lost two members. And we only had twelve now. We needed everyone. I really wasn't comfortable with having Jacob sway in the back as a last resort.

"Yeah," Mercedes agreed, with a sigh. "But, I talked to Tina. And Matt talked to Mike. Neither of them has any plans to drop out on us. Plus, they're both being mature about this. The break up was mutual. They've been having problems for a long time."

"_Artie,_" Rachel knowingly interjected.

"Maybe, maybe not," Mercedes said, firmly. "Maybe Tina just needs her independence for awhile. Anyway, our dear Artie seems pretty busy right now. Lord, I can't believe Jacob had the nerve to refer to him as 'Wheels' in that article. And the stuff he said about Quinn…"

"Going to see the show?" I asked them.

Mercedes bit her lip, glancing at Matt before speaking. "Actually…"


	13. Part Two: Quinn

_Quinn_

The stage was finally looking like the Skid Row, after hours and hours of burning the midnight oil with the cast and crew. It had been a lot of fun staying after school with my new friends to work on our set. By now, our lines were memorized, our blocking was ready, and we were just adding the finishing touches in preparation for opening night.

As Artie and I belted out 'Suddenly Seymour' for the approval of our cast, Mr. Marshall clapped as he always did, but this time, he got to his feet and stopped us. I waited to find out if I was a little sharp again, but surprisingly, it wasn't about the song.

"The kiss," he said, causing everyone in the auditorium to start giggling and murmuring. I glanced down at Artie, who purposely avoided looking back at me. "Okay, look, we've been putting it off, but it's time to see how it works. We're one week from opening night, kids. So Seymour and Audrey – I'm going to dismiss everyone, but I do need to see Chiffon and Ronnette backstage. You two have the stage to yourself work out this kiss."

Although they'd been dismissed, nobody left until Mr. Marshall turned and ordered them out. They left, but not without tossing out cat calls and wolf whistles on the way. By the time we were really alone, Artie was as red as the vintage band t-shirt he was wearing under his skinny black suspenders.

"Oh, come on, Wheels," I said, grinning at him. "We're mature enough to handle a stage kiss. Besides, it's supposed to be campy and cheesy. We don't have to make out or anything."

Artie managed a nervous smile. I'd been calling him 'Wheels' ever since that heinous article was published; it was kind of our inside joke. Theatre tended to lend itself to a lot of inside jokes. We took turns carrying the littlest version of Audrey II (the plant) around and wrapping our fingers in bandages.

"I know, I know," he said, adjusting his glasses and unzipping his backpack. To my great amusement, he pulled out a stick of gum. I leaned over and stuck out my hand, causing him to grin as he gave me a stick. "I've just… only ever kissed Tina."

"I _know_," I replied, laughing. "Trust me, I saw. After Regionals. Right before my water broke." I winced, recalling how narrowly I had escaped making an even bigger spectacle of myself.

"Yeah, well, I'm out of practice," Artie went on, rolling his eyes.

"Speaking of that, you know that Tina and Mike broke up, right?"

"I know." Artie folded his hands in his lap and looked at them.

"Oka-ay, well…" I realized that the longer we waited, the more awkward it got. We'd realized that we were going to have to kiss each other even before being cast in our roles. "Let's take it from the end of 'Suddenly Seymour,' where you come in to sing it with me. So – here we go…"

_Suddenly Seymour,  
He purified you  
Suddenly Seymour  
Yes, you can  
Learn how to be more  
The girl that's inside you  
With sweet understanding,  
With sweet understanding,  
With sweet understanding,  
Seymour's your man_

In one quick motion, I leaned down and put my hands on Artie's shoulders, feeling as though I was attacking his face at first. Artie put his hands around my waist, pulling me in and kissing me back. I wondered if he was thinking of Tina as he did it. I wasn't thinking of Puck or Finn. It wasn't anything like kissing one of them. And the gum had been a good idea. We both had fresh breath like we'd just brushed our teeth. Not a moment too soon, I pulled back. He scrunched up his face, looking worriedly back at me.

Two seconds later, we were both laughing. "We can't… laugh… onstage!" Artie managed to say, before clutching his stomach and doubling over. I dropped to my knees, giggling hysterically as tears streamed down my cheeks. Before we knew it, we weren't the only ones laughing. Alarmed, we both looked up to see a lone figure standing in the shadows at the back of the auditorium, applauding as she approached.

"You know you have to keep a straight face when it's show time, don't you?" Mercedes said, with a smirk. "I think you need a little more practice, but you definitely sold the kiss. Until you laughed."

"Hey, girl," Artie called out, his blush returning. "What are you doing here?"

It wasn't the first time one of the glee kids had paid us a visit after their practice. Rachel liked to drop by, although she'd given up trying to openly convince us to come back to glee club. Now she just dropped subtle hints and always reminded us that we were missed. It got to Artie a little bit, but I was determined not to let her get to me.

"I'm your new Crystal," she announced, causing my jaw to drop, as well as Artie's. "LaToya's got mono and you don't have understudies, but Mr. Marshall knows me. I sing at his church. By the way, I hope neither of you drank after her."

"But how are you our new Crystal?" Artie asked, mystified. "Don't tell me you left glee club, Mercedes! That would kill them."

"I didn't leave the club," she quickly assured us. "Mr. Marshall was in a bind. We took a lot of the good singers from his auditions, you know. So he worked it out with Mr. Schuester to use me. I'm going to be doing both, which should be exhausting for me right now, but it won't last long."

_Both?_ I looked at Artie and he looked at me. It had never occurred to us that it might have been possible to do both the musical and glee club. But then I realized how many rehearsals we'd had already and how many of those rehearsals had conflicted with glee ones.

"Ah, good, Mercedes has arrived!" Mr. Marshall appeared from behind the curtain followed by Sasha and Shannon, who played the other urchins, Chiffon and Ronnette. "I've arranged some extra practices for the three of you to get you caught up, Mercedes."

"Thanks for the soundtrack, Mr. Marshall," Mercedes said. "I've been listening and I'm really excited about doing the show. I was disappointed when I couldn't try out at the beginning of the year because it conflicted with glee club."

Mr. Marshall bit his lip, and then looked at Artie and me. "About that," he began, "Why didn't either of you two tell me you dropped out of the glee club for the musical? We could have worked something out."

"That's the same reason we didn't try out for glee," Sasha added, surprising all of us. Her sister, Shannon, nodded in agreement. They were both freshmen, and both of them were pretty good, kind of little miniature versions of Mercedes. I had no doubt that the three of them would sound awesome as a trio.

Artie looked at me, but I had fallen speechless. It hadn't occurred to me how much I missed glee club until now. So what if Puck was dating Santana? I had been the one to dump him, hadn't I?

Because I had found myself incapable of speech, Artie spoke up. "We're really sorry, Mr. Marshall. I guess it's too late now."

Mr. Marshall sighed. "Maybe next year," he agreed. "I just hate to limit the kids that really have talent to just one thing. I'm not possessive. It certainly wouldn't have bothered me to share time with Will Schuester. I'll have a talk with him and see if we can't work something out for the spring musical."

Artie gave me this incredulous look, and I knew what he had to be thinking because I was thinking it, too. I kind of wished Mr. Marshall hadn't said that. _I _didn't want to regret my decision.

"Well, how's that kiss?" Mr. Marshall wanted to know.

"They need to try it one more time," Mercedes answered quickly, smirking at us again. "They laughed."

"Let's see it," Mr. Marshall replied. Sasha and Shannon quickly giggled and made no attempts to leave. "No song this time, just the kiss."

"Well, come on down here, hot stuff," Artie piped up, taking me by surprise.

I stifled a laugh. "Stop it," I told him. "Be serious." I quickly leaned down to do the kiss again, trying to block out the audience. How much harder was it going to be to do this in front of the whole school?

But kissing Artie the second time was easier. I was still glad we were both chewing that gum. It had been considerate of him to think of it. In fact, he was a really great kisser. We might have kissed for a fraction of a second longer than was absolutely necessary. But hey, when we sell it, we sell it. When our lips parted, I noticed Artie's eyes as they fluttered open behind his thick framed glasses. Blue. I'd never noticed that they were that deep shade of blue before. They were gorgeous. Neither of us laughed this time.

"Sexy," commented Shannon, as her sister added: "Hot."

"Seymour should be bad at kissing, Artie," I told him.

"Oh, he is."

"I disagree."

An uncomfortable silence followed, broken by a low whistle from Mercedes. But Artie and I remedied the awkwardness by laughing it off again as we gathered up our things. Mr. Marshall went over the extra practice times with Mercedes, Shannon, and Sasha. Meanwhile, I followed Artie out of the auditorium and into the fresh air.

"What are you doing today?" I asked him, jogging along beside him as he headed towards the vehicle parked in the handicapped space that I had seen him driving several times. He'd even given me a lift home from practice while my car had been in the shop recently. My poor car was _still _in the shop, but today, Brittany was my ride.

"Oh, well, I have physio today," he said, and I nodded, knowing that this was something he did on a weekly basis. He looked at me a bit strangely when I asked, and I realized why. We only ever saw each other at school and during rehearsal. We had just kissed each other, and now it sounded like I was trying to make plans with him.

"Oh, well…" I broke off suddenly, trying to figure out my own motives. _Was _I trying to make plans with him? I did love hanging out with him and he did look a lot better these days, but he was still an AV club loving, comic book reading, certifiable geek. "… cool. Have fun. I'll see you tomorrow."

I walked all the way to Artie's car with him before remembering that Brittany was going to meet me by the football field, totally in the opposite direction. I sighed, rolling my eyes at my own stupidity. Had I actually gotten so desperate for love and attention that I was flirting with Artie? I picked up the pace to a jog as I made my way towards the field.

Something, or rather, someone distracted me as I searched for Brittany. I found him circling the track, separated from me by a fence. He felt my eyes on him and looked up at the exact same moment I did.

And there, in a baby carrier on his stomach, starting straight at me was our Beth. I ran to them, clutching the fence for support, and cried out his name in anguish. "Noah Puckerman!"

"Hey," he slowed his pace, turning to walk across the lanes of the track, stopping on the other side of the fence from me. Beth gave me a sociable smile, clearly content to be riding strapped to Puck. "I'm… babysitting."

I couldn't say another word. I hadn't seen Beth since the day I'd left the hospital. The tears came fast, without warning, and I clung so tightly to the fence that my knuckles turned white as I began sobbing uncontrollably. Puck reached for my hand, concerned, and began apologizing immediately.

"Oh, Beth," I choked out, in between sobs, hardly hearing what Puck was saying to me. "_Beth…_"


	14. Part Two: Puck

_Puck_

It took Quinn about five minutes to stop crying, and for the first time all year, I felt sorry for _her._ I'd been bitter, really bitter, for a long time because I was the only one paying any visits to Beth. Now all I felt was pity for Quinn.

I suggested we go to a deli that was right across the street from school. Quinn agreed, texted Brittany to say that she didn't need a ride, and climbed in the backseat of my truck. I suggested she ride in the back next to Beth's car seat to keep her entertained as I drove. Beth had screamed earlier when I'd picked her up from Shelby's, probably not liking the fact that she had to ride in the back alone. But I'd read that the back seat was the safest place for children, especially babies. Now every time I checked my rearview mirror, Beth was content, smiling up at Quinn.

"Will Santana be okay with this?" Quinn wondered, as I parked.

"Not really," I said, imagining the look on Santana's face if she knew about our little family outing. "So, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything about it to her."

Quinn agreed. I guess we'd both grown up enough to come to an understanding about these things. I unbuckled Beth's carrier car seat from its base to bring it inside. The thing was state-of-the-art. Shelby had purchased only the newest, nicest baby gear. I knew Quinn, who was watching over my shoulder, had to be thinking the same thing. Because we'd given her away, Beth had nice things. If we'd kept her, we would've been collecting random used items here and there, things that were probably recalled for safety hazards or out of date.

We walked into the deli and a waitress immediately brought us a strange contraption. We must have looked like total idiots when neither of us knew what it was for, but she took Beth's carrier and set it in place for us, a bemused smile upon her face. The waitress kept any comments to herself as she asked for our drink orders.

"You have a beautiful little girl," she said, admiring Beth before she left. I could see that Quinn was opening her mouth to speak, possibly to assure the lady that Beth didn't belong to us.

"Thank you," I told her, as Quinn closed her mouth. The waitress hurried off to fetch our sodas. Quinn unwrapped her silverware and studied her fork intently. I watched Beth chew on a cold teething ring that Shelby had put in the refrigerator. Now six months old, Beth was more animated and person-like than ever. Plus, she was cutting her first tooth, which made her a little moodier. She reminded me more of Quinn than ever.

"So," said Quinn, breaking the heavy silence. "Shelby let you babysit."

"She doesn't usually need a babysitter," I explained, still watching Beth chewing happily in her infant seat. "Her friend's in the hospital, and she needed to visit and run a few errands for the friend."

I continued watching Beth. From experience, I knew she'd try to throw the teething ring from her infant seat soon. A bottle was much better for keeping her occupied so I retrieved the one Shelby had prepared for us before we left. Quinn stared as I gave it to her.

"She's holding her own bottle," Quinn observed, as captivated as I was by the weekly, sometimes daily, changes I'd watched Beth go through over time. Tears trickled out of Quinn's eyes. _Here we go again, _I thought, yanking out a few napkins for her.

"Her pediatrician says she's right on track," I answered, automatically. Shelby had told me that during my most recent visit. Things weren't weird with Shelby any more. There had been that one cougar attack, but I'd made my opinion about her advances pretty clear, and Shelby had never done it again. She did apologize to me, however, citing it as a moment of weakness.

"Six more months and she might be walking," Quinn breathed, dabbing at her eyes and looking at the ceiling. She took in another deep breath. "I've missed _so _much."

"Didn't you want an open adoption?" I asked, innocently, as the waitress brought us our drinks. She seemed to catch the end of our conversation and gave us a funny look as she set our Cokes down in front of us.

"I did," Quinn answered. "And still do. But it's different for me, Puck. I carried her with me for, well, eight whole months. I _knew _exactly what I was giving up – a part of myself. When you visit, it's just like you're visiting some little kid you really like."

"That's not –"

"It's _true_, Puck," she argued. "It was different for me."

I folded my arms across my body, leaning back in my seat, reminded again of why it would never work out between me and Quinn. "Whatever you say," I mumbled. "She's a part of me, too. It was my _sperm._"

Quinn pressed her finger tips to her temples and closed her eyes. "Oh, my God, shut up, Puck. And I'm sure that loss of _sperm _gave you cankles and back aches and heartburn, too."

"Yeah, sympathy pains or something."

She shook her head at me. "You are an idiot."

"Careful," I warned her. "Beth's a sponge at this age. That may leave such an impression that it might very well be her first word."

Quinn rolled her eyes, but it did get her to be quiet. The waitress came to take our orders and we both got sandwiches. Beth proceeded to nod off in her infant seat, and Quinn looked slightly disappointed that Beth was going to sleep through the visit.

"So, how's the play going?" I asked. "I fully intend to see it so that I can watch you and Wheels pretend to be in love. Are you going to make out with him?"

Quinn snorted. "Don't call him 'Wheels,'" she admonished me. "And I do kiss him onstage, but that's what actors and actresses do. It's called _acting._ I would say that you should take some classes, but you acted your part pretty well when you got me pregnant. And then when you told me you loved me."

"Whatever," I muttered, tired of this conversation. "I did love you."

Her expression softened slightly, but she looked away from me. She smiled at Beth, sound asleep and peaceful now. "I know you did," she murmured. Then she quickly cleared her throat. "How's glee?"

"We're almost ready for Sectionals," I reported, proudly. I liked glee even more this year, now that I wasn't so worried about the impact it would have on my image. Matt, Mike, Santana, Brittany and I were upperclassmen now. If we said glee club was cool, it was cool.

"Santana deserved the solo that went to that foreign exchange chick," I went on, polishing off my Coke. I hoped that waitress would keep up. I usually required a refill or two before I even got my food. Three if the food was slow. "But I'm convinced that she only lost out because Mr. Schue was afraid that Fez would drop out."

Quinn nearly spit out her soda. "_Fez?_"

"Yeah, Fez," I confirmed. "Didn't you ever watch _That 70's Show_? That's the name I gave to what's-her-face, Rachel Berry Two-Point-Oh."

"I miss glee club," Quinn admitted, much to my surprise. "I didn't think I would, but I miss it more than cheerleading. It didn't really bother me until today when I found out that maybe Artie and I could have done both all along."

"So come back to us," I urged. "You both can audition again after Sectionals. I heard Mr. Schue talking about doing that, holding another audition. I think it's really so that Fez can quit if she wants to."

"Maybe I will," she said, idly stirring her soda with her straw. "I will if Artie will, I guess. But Artie still isn't over…"

"Dude, they broke up."

She shrugged. "Well, whatever, we know how that is."

I narrowed my eyes. "So, you quitting was about me and _Santana? _Quinn, you dumped _me. _It was my right to date whoever I wanted."

"I know that," she said, simply. "I just didn't know you wanted her. I thought you were just, like, sexting her. Not actually interested in her. She _was _my best friend once, you know. It just isn't right."

"Oh, you mean like how Finn was my best friend?"

She didn't have an answer for that. Our food arrived just then, along with my refill, and we ate in silence for awhile, occasionally pausing to talk about Beth. Talking about Beth was safe territory, but anything else seemed to be off-limits for now.

I drove her home in that same silence, punctuated by background noise from my iPod playlist. If Quinn was surprised to notice that some glee club selections – Broadway standards – had found their way into my usual bad ass soundtrack, she kept her comments to herself. Beth woke up long enough for Quinn to play with her on the way back to her house.

"I'll start visiting Beth," she said, softly, when I had parked on the curb in front of the house that she and her mother were now renting. They'd sold the other one when her parents got divorced. Last I'd heard, Quinn's crummy father had moved to California. It was kind of liberating to know that even though we'd given our baby away, I was still a better father than that loser.

"Good," I told her. "I go on Monday. If you, um, want your own day, I know that Shelby isn't busy on Wednesdays either."

"Yeah, probably better that I take my own day," she said, hesitantly. "You know, for Santana's sake. But um… Noah?"

"Yeah?"

She unbuckled her seatbelt and rose slightly to give me a gentle kiss. As she drew back, I blinked several times wearing what must have been a confused expression. Quinn Fabray just smiled at me as she took her seat again, leaning over to give Beth a kiss. "I'm just glad we made her, you know?"

"Me too."

"Yeah," she said, a little breathlessly. "Well, see you at school."

I watched her go, realizing that Quinn was the first girl I'd ever really been in love with. It had been hard, falling in love and out of love in just one year. I glanced back at my Beth, who was starting to doze off again in her car seat. There was the second girl I'd ever really been in love with, our Beth. Shelby's Beth. But still… our Beth, too.


	15. Part Two: Mercedes

A/N: You were expecting... Rachel? Nope! You get Mercedes first. I've changed the order of the remaining chapters.

* * *

_Mercedes_

Learning my new part with less than a week until opening night wasn't easy, but the freshman girls in my trio, Sasha and Shannon, were really patient with me. We had to schedule a few extra practices for Artie and Quinn to practice with us, as well as a couple more for the whole cast when we do the finale. Before I knew it, I was singing the entire show nonstop.

"_One day he pushed a broom, nothing in his news but doom and gloom, then he lit a fuse and bang, kaboom –"_

"– _stand aside and watch that mother blow!"_

I blushed as he finished the song for me, not even aware that I'd been doing it. "Sorry, Matt, was I singing again?"

"Yeah," he said, grinning at me and putting my books that he'd been carrying back in my locker for me. "I think I could be _your_ understudy, you know? Anyway, are you coming over later to study? And… stuff."

By _stuff_, I knew Matt meant making out for hours. The actual studying would be minimal, even though Matt badly needed to secure a B on his next Spanish test. I was still uncomfortable with the physical aspect of our relationship. Dating a guy like Matt was making me worry about my body more than ever.

Even though it bothered me that I always gained the weight back after camp, I wouldn't ever say I _hate _my body. There are so many things I really like about my body. Every girl in glee claims to be envious of my amble bust. And I happen to think they look proportional with my hips and waist. But sometimes, in moments of weakness, I just want to be the type of girl I used to think _Matt _would want. He always assures me I'm exactly what he wants. But it doesn't stop me from refusing when he asks if I'll take my top off and show him my bra. He finally quit asking.

I sighed. "I'll let you know, okay? I need to check on my boy Kurt. Something tells me he might be having a hard time with… the recent news. I'll text you either way."

Matt graciously kissed me on the cheek, happy to accept this answer. He respected my friendship with Kurt.

Kurt and I have one class together this year, a total joke of a class, Health. Health is really supposed to be for freshmen, but most kids put it off until junior or senior year so that they can have a blow off class. Quinn and Sam are in the class with us.

We'd been discussing pregnancy in Health class today, and I thought Quinn might be embarrassed because everyone kept looking at her for answers. I was impressed with her for the way she handled it. She answered every single question, adding input and things she'd learned "from experience" without letting anyone make her feel ashamed. I was so proud of my girl that I pulled her aside to tell her this after class. And suddenly, Sam Evans made his move.

"Yeah, Quinn, I thought that was really brave of you," Sam said, butting into our conversation. "You were really open and honest. Uh, I'm Sam, by the way." He stuck out his hand awkwardly, as if he hadn't sat two desks away from her all year. But then it occurred to me that I'd never seen them talk.

"You're in glee club and football," she replied, with a giggle. "There seems to be a lot of that these days. But thanks, Sam, I just figure it's better to be the one talking than be the one being talked _about. _Besides, I'm not ashamed of having been pregnant. I'm able to help other young girls in the same situation now."

Leave it to Quinn to make herself sound saintly for having been pregnant. I looked over at Kurt to exchange _are you kidding me _looks. (I love my girl, but really?) But Kurt didn't look at me. He was staring at the wall, apparently trying to pretend he wasn't standing there and listening to the whole exchange.

"That's awesome," Sam went on. "My older sister got pregnant when she was a senior. She got to graduate before the baby was born, but she still had to deal with a whole lot of crap from other people. Hey, listen, do you want to get together sometime? I'd love to talk with you outside of school…"

My jaw had positively come unhinged. Sam, a fifteen year old _sophomore_, had just asked out Quinn Fabray during their very first conversation. And to further my astonishment, Quinn beamed at him and accepted. They continued walking as if she and I hadn't even been talking at all. I finally made eye contact with Kurt, seeing that his eyes had glazed over and color was draining from his cheeks. He swallowed hard, clutching his books tightly across his chest, and hurried away from me.

After telling Matt that I might be busy, I wandered off to find Kurt. I discovered him hiding out in the choir room, hunched over the piano playing a very melancholy piece.

"Come on, Kurt," I said, dropping into a chair beside the bench. He continued playing as if I hadn't interrupted him. "It can't be that bad. I thought you got over that Backstreet Boy Sam Elliot months ago."

He hit a wrong note and stopped. "So did I," he mumbled, heaving a huge sigh. I was kind of used to Kurt's hysterics, but even so, I could see that my boy was really upset. "Quinn Fabray steals all my crushes. She has powers beyond that of normal girls, powers to attract both the straight _and _the potentially gay."

"Ah," I said, knowingly. "So it isn't Sam you want. It's Quinn. Now it all makes sense." I patted his arm, and he swatted me away. But it did get him to laugh a little.

"Mercedes," he said, becoming serious again. "You shouldn't even be worrying about me, after the way I treated you this summer. I really neglected you, and I don't think I ever gave you an appropriate apology. So, here it is. Mercedes, I'm so very sorry. You deserve a better friend than me."

"Kurt," I began, gently. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm happy. I got the guy of my dreams. I only wish I could see you happy, too. One of these days, I'd like to take you on a double date."

"Well, I could always invite Brittany again…" Kurt trailed off, knowing that this wasn't the same thing, of course.

"How about just you and I go out on a date tonight?" I suggested. "We can rent _Good Will Hunting _and _The Bourne Identity…_"

"Matt Damon movies," Kurt smiled at me for knowing him so well. "That does sound tempting, but doesn't _your _Matt have a Spanish test tomorrow? I'm in his class. He'd probably like some time with you tonight…"

"My Matt knows that my _Kurt _needs me tonight," I told him, assuredly. "It's cool. I'm all yours tonight."

* * *

Later, after way too many hours of Matt Damon, I was lying in my bed when my cell phone rang. Figuring it might be Kurt again, I answered abruptly with, "For the last time, I _don't _think that Jay Z is more talented than my boy Drake."

"You know, some people think I look like Drake."

I giggled. "I'm the one who said that, and it's totally the reason you're my boyfriend. Drake is _fine._"

He laughed. "So, I've always seen movies where the guy throws pebbles at the girl's window to get her attention, and I wanted to try that, but I'm here and can't find a single pebble. Plus, I was kind of worried that this is the wrong window, and I don't want to wake up your older brother by accident."

I hurried to open my second story window, and sure enough, Matt was leaning casually against the tree. Hanging up the phone, I called down to him instead. "Do you need help with Spanish?" I asked, confused as to why he'd be here at this hour.

"It's cool, I got Mike Chang's help," he said, hopping up to take hold of a branch and swinging his legs up in one smooth motion. "I was going to ask Santana, but then I found out that I get better grades than she does. Turns out, the Changster is practically fluent."

"Weird," I commented, nervously watching him climb up to my window. "Matt, I'm pretty sure I could have just let you in the back door. Please be careful…"

Matt gave me an _are you serious _look as he continued to make his way up the tree, having come too far to turn back now. It was a little tricky, but he finally managed to ease his way into my room through the window. I looked around, slightly embarrassed that I'd left laundry and my damp towel lying on the floor. Plus, I was wearing my pajamas, which were just shorts and one of my brother's old jerseys. But _still,_ they were my pajamas…

"I just felt adventurous," he said, with a shrug, taking a seat on the end of my bed. "But I think I'll get a ladder next time. You look really cute, by the way. Nice towel wrap."

_Oh, shit,_ I thought, pulling the wrap off of my head. I'd recently gotten my hair done and had wrapped it up while I showered so that it wouldn't get wet. Matt admired my braids, all of it my own hair, for a moment before settling back against the pillows and pulling me along with him.

Before I knew it, we were making out in _my _room for a change, under the same roof as _my _parents and _my _brother. As things got pretty hot and heavy, I began to get nervous. I have a lock on my door, but I'm usually not allowed to use it. I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Matt could always bolt for the window while I made a quick excuse. I pushed away from him and got up to make good use of my lock. When I turned back to Matt, he was giving me a rather devious look. I smiled back, albeit nervously, realizing I'd never felt so rebellious in my life.

"Nice jersey," he remarked, pulling me into his lap as I approached him again. I sat rather gingerly, anxious about being in his lap. I wasn't the type of girl to sit on a guy's lap. And then Matt did something I hadn't expected. He started tugging at the jersey, trying to get me to take it off as we made out. I resisted, pulling back in the opposite direction. He drew back, a hurt expression on his face.

"I just want to see your body, Mercedes…"

He hadn't asked for more than just making out in a long time, but seeing what it was doing to him weakened my defenses. Finally, with a huge sigh, I agreed. Knowing I might regret this – he hadn't even seen me in a bathing suit – I removed my shirt to reveal the back bra I was wearing underneath.

I was definitely evoking a reaction from Matt. He uttered a "wow" under his breath that only made me feel more self-conscious as I crossed my arms across my body. He reached for my hand, trying to get me to stop covering myself up.

"Mercedes," he began, slowly. "Do you think it's time we… moved to the next level…?" He knew I knew what he meant.

It was then that I remembered how to be sassy.

I grabbed the shirt that I'd just tossed aside, yanking it furiously over my head. I thought we'd been over this. I thought I'd told him plenty of times, again and again, that I was the type of girl who wanted to save myself until marriage. His climb to my window had seemed sweet and romantic and old-fashioned, until now.

"Goodnight, Matt," I said, ushering him back over to the window, ignoring his attempts to protest. "Do me a favor and don't bother getting a ladder. You _won't_ be needing it!"

He suddenly became mute again. I watched as Matt Rutherford climbed quickly down that tree, practically falling when he got near the bottom. He took off at a run when he hit the ground, without looking back. Clutching myself for dear life, I began to cry.


	16. Part Two: Kurt

_Kurt_

"Listen, Kurt, Sam told me about last summer."

The scarf I'd loosely draped around my neck this morning was now choking me. I stood by my locker and just nodded, my sawdust covered tongue unable to utter an intelligible response. I'd been certain that Sam would hide me from Quinn, just like he'd hid me from everyone else as soon as he started going to my school. To Sam, I was merely a phase, an experiment gone wrong. Sam, I was sure, had completely denied whatever feelings he once had for another guy. To solidify his manhood, he'd gone and asked out Quinn Fabray so that there would be no more questions concerning his vague sexuality. Turning right around and telling Quinn about me, therefore, seemed counterproductive.

"Did he tell you I had some big gay crush on him, but he just thought we were friends?" I figured that had to be it.

"No, he told me the truth," she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I eyed the hand suspiciously, wishing she'd put it elsewhere. It was too weird, the prospective new girlfriend talking to the clandestine ex-boyfriend. To make my point, I shrugged her hand off of me, studying her with the utmost suspicion.

"Why?" I asked, incredulously.

"Full disclosure is important to me when it comes to potential relationships," she said, casually. "I made that clear to him, and he came clean about his past, including past relationships. I just wanted you to know that I know, and that way we can avoid any impending awkwardness."

"Right because this isn't awkward at all," I muttered, between clenched teeth, slamming my locker shut. "See you later."

I adjusted my bag over my shoulder and hurried to get away from her. I had rehearsal to get to and she had her own as well. But much to my dismay, Quinn was following me. "Wait!" she called.

"What now, Quinn?" I turned, ready to give the little boyfriend stealer a piece of my mind now. It was bad enough that she knew too much about my history with Sam, but now she had the nerve to harass me about it, too?

But what came next wasn't what I expected to hear at all. "Did Mercedes tell you what happened last night?"

I blinked in confusion. "I hung out with her last night," I said. "We watched movies. I talked to her today in class. She didn't say anything about last night. What happened last night?"

Quinn drew in a deep, dramatic breath. "Matt tried to get her to have sex with him," she explained. "She refused and threw him out of her room. She thinks he might break up with her for it."

My stomach did a somersault. "You're kidding," I whispered, feeling ill. I'd always approved of Matt Rutherford for my best girl until being blindly struck with this news. My hands clenched into fists and my face grew hot. Quinn said something else, but I didn't hear it.

Suddenly, I was sprinting for the choir room at full speed, my scarf flying behind me. I saw nothing but Matt's sneering, ugly face in my mind. How dare he make demands, pressure Mercedes into surrendering her moral convictions? Being her boyfriend for a few months sure as hell didn't earn him that right. If he cared about her, he would give her all the time she needed, even if she needed him to wait until he'd put a ring on her finger in front of all her family and friends.

He was the first and only face I saw when I stormed in. He was leaning against the piano, casually talking to someone else, when I approached. He turned to look at me, caught off guard by my sudden appearance just long enough to give me an advantage. I drew back and clobbered the big idiot right in the nose. Mercedes' faint screams echoed in my mind, but all I could think was _victory!_

Matt hunched over, clutching his nose tightly, unable to prevent blood from spilling out all over the linoleum. Arms closed in around me from behind and I realized that Finn, who quite ironically had kicked Puck's ass in the very same spot where we now stood, was pulling me away from Matt. "Are you crazy?"

"What happened in here?" Now Mr. Schuester was involved, and I realized he was just arriving, to find Finn holding me back as I gasped for breath and Mercedes hovering over Matt as his nose continued to bleed. It must have been a pretty bizarre sight to behold, but I couldn't be concerned about Mr. Schue right now. I may have lost my mind, trying to beat up a football player, but I was a guy with a score to settle. People tended to forget that I was still just that, a guy who could get mad and want to punch someone just as much as any heterosexual guy.

"I'm taking Matt to the nurse, Mr. Schue," Mercedes spoke up, glaring at me as she said it, leaving me completely flabbergasted. I'd protected her, just like a friend was supposed to do! Why was I the bad guy for it? I watched her guide Matt as he hunched over, pinching his nose shut to stop the bleeding.

"I'd better take Kurt, too," Finn added, grabbing my wrist to examine the hand that was still balled into a fist. Upon closer inspection, I realized my knuckles weren't in great shape. Matt's face was a lot more solid than I'd anticipated. I tried to uncurl my first, but two of my knuckles were really sore, causing me to wince with pain.

"Kurt Hummel, when you get back, I expect an explanation," was all Mr. Schuester could think to say to me. I gave a weak nod and held onto Finn, which would have been like a dream to me last year. Now I was just embarrassed and confused about what had just happened.

"Dude, what did Matt do to you?" Finn wanted to know, as he led me to the nurse's office. "I've never even seen him talk to you. 'Course that could be because Matt isn't exactly a talker."

"It's not what he did to _me,_" I grumbled. "It's Mercedes."

Finn just looked more confused. "What did he do to Mercedes?" he wanted to know. "Right before you barged in and attacked him, they were talking to each other and laughing. They looked just fine to me."

I stared agape at Finn, wondering if Quinn had been wrong. I'd been so angry at the thought of Matt hurting Mercedes that nothing else had mattered, not even checking the reliability of the source. As Finn steered me into the nurse's office and forced me down into a chair, I was faced with Matt, who now held a bunch of tissues pressed up against his face. The nurse was busy making him an ice pack. Mercedes shot me a murderous glare.

"What made you do this, Kurt?" she demanded.

I hung my head. "Quinn told me what you told her."

"Oh, _that?_" Mercedes shook her head, as Matt looked at her quizzically. "I was just venting to Quinn. Matt came and found me to apologize for everything that happened. Everything's fine between us."

"Except I might have to put her best friend in the dumpster soon," Matt grumbled, wincing as though it hurt him to speak. I shrank down in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

"Don't do that," Mercedes intervened, although she didn't crack a smile in my direction. "You listen to me, Hummel, the next time you try to be my knight in shining armor, make sure you know the facts."

We returned to rehearsal, looking bruised and battered, but otherwise fine. In the end, Mr. Schuester decided it was best that he handle my discipline himself rather than taking it up with Mr. Figgins, given the strong possibility that I would be suspended, which would get us disqualified if I couldn't be replaced. Matt agreed to the arrangement, and I wound up with a month's worth of detention with Mr. Schuester. I'd also earned another lecture from Mercedes, with special appearances by Rachel, who was determined to become involved.

"Rachel, leave him alone," Mr. Schuester finally ordered her. Mercedes appeared to be backing off of me, whereas Rachel had just been gaining steam. She nodded reluctantly, doing as she'd been told.

Now that Matt and I had been relatively bandaged up, my potentially broken middle finger splinted and Matt's nostrils filled with gauze, we awkwardly began our rehearsal. Matt opted to sit out, lying across three chairs in the back of the room. Every so often, Mercedes or Rachel or even Tina shot me a nasty look. Santana deliberately tried to trip me while we were dancing. Charice was trying rather unsuccessfully to get through her solo amidst all the distractions from her backup singers.

Finally, she threw up her hands in disgust. "You clumsy oafs are singing out of tune!" she cried. "And the dancing sounds like a herd of elephants behind me! I can't take it any more. No wonder this group got last place at Regionals."

Mr. Schuester quickly intervened, holding up his hands. In the back of the classroom, Matt had sat up upon hearing Charice's outburst and exchanged a troubled look with Mercedes.

"Charice, calm down," Mr. Schue urged, taking her gently by the shoulders. "Maybe we should spend a little more time on the backing vocals, but this isn't really the way to talk to your teammates."

"Oh, _some team_," she went on, pulling out of his grip and turning to address the rest of us. Brittany cowered behind Santana, looking genuinely fearful. "I happen to know that _she _never wanted me here. She's been after my solo ever since I beat her!"

I expected her to be pointing at Rachel, but it was Santana she was accusing now. And then I remembered that Rachel, for some mysterious reason, had opted _not _to audition for Charice's song, even though I know for a fact that she loves _Chicago. _The only person who'd given Charice a run from her money was Santana. And she, in my opinion, sung the hell of it the song and deserved the solo way more. The following day, Mr. Schuester had automatically given a duet from _Phantom_ to Rachel and Finn, and I'd never been more supportive of the idea of featuring Rachel Berry. But Charice had looked angry about that, too.

"You're damn right I never wanted you here," Santana shot back, taking a menacing step towards Charice. Mr. Schuester positioned himself between them, probably fearful that my little mishap with Matt wasn't going to be the only fight in rehearsal today.

"Mr. Schue, it's clear to me that no one appreciates my talent," Charice went on, refusing to look at Santana now. "And what kind of team is this? Half of them don't even sing in practice..."

"Well, she has a point," Rachel whispered.

"… I think my time would be better spent working on my next solo album," Charice, who never failed to remind us that she had a recording contract, continued. With one last disdainful glare in our direction, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and stormed out of the choir room without looking back.

"Now _that's _a storm out," Mike muttered.

To everyone's surprise, Rachel went running after her.


	17. Part Two: Rachel

_Rachel_

There's a reason that I prefer to exercise each morning with my elliptical, as opposed to actually running. I happen to know that I look rather silly when I run. My feet turn out and hit the ground way harder than necessary, putting strain on my calves and ankles. I am a performer, not an athlete, and my elliptical keeps me toned and fit so that I create nice lines while dancing.

But I was running right now, and I was thankful that the halls were vacant. I was running after Charice, who had just topped even my most dramatic storm-out. Twelve minus one makes eleven, which meant we would be sunk. But as I ran, I realized I had another reason for chasing her. Charice was me last year. I've changed for the better and learned to function as a member of a team. Glee taught me that. But right now, Charice only knew how to look out for number one. And it was my job to show her a better way.

"Charice!" I was so thankful that she'd stopped and taken a seat on a bench near the office. She must have been waiting on a ride. I remembered that Charice was younger than I was, too young to drive yet. As the older and wiser one, I could impart my wisdom. She looked up with an air of impatience and annoyance. It was a look I knew all too well. Last year, I was just like her. I knew everything and no one could tell me anything.

Sure enough, she sneered and said, "What do you want?"

"To tell you that you're right," I said, taking a seat beside her. She raised her eyebrows, clearly not expecting that response. But haven't I told you? I know how to work people. (Okay, I know it didn't work with Artie and Quinn.) Tactic three: Flatter and confuse.

"I'm what?"

"You're right," I said again. "I've even pointed it out myself. Half the time, a lot of them don't even sing during rehearsals while I'm giving myself laryngitis to make up for it. And I love Finn, but he's a horrible dancer. He's probably responsible for the herd of elephants you mentioned, bless his heart. But Charice, you did earn that solo. And you're going to come back and do that solo because you've worked too hard to quit now."

She fell silent, weighing what I'd just said. I'd tried my hardest to play up her strengths, validate her feelings, and do other things that I know work when you're trying to persuade someone. But I forgot how very similar she and I were. I underestimated her.

"You just want me to stay to give you the twelve you need to compete," she concluding, narrowing her eyes at me. "You don't like me. No one does."

Aha! So she did care what they thought of her. I always knew she did. Tactic four: Relate. "Charice, I know what you're going through," I said, softly. "Before you came, I was the diva. Mr. Schuester gave the song I wanted to Tina, and I quit the club over it. But I ended up coming back. I found out that this team only works if it's fair, Charice. So you have to decide, are you a solo artist or a member of an ensemble? Before you answer that, I want you to consider our team's potential. When we're good, we're good, Charice. Don't you want to be a part of that? If you were more of a team player, they'd like you more."

Charice looked at her hands. I held my breath, waiting for her to shoot me down, but much to my surprise, a lone tear traced down her cheek. I didn't speak, but continued to wait for Charice. I had a feeling I'd strike a nerve, but I didn't expect tears. She was even more like me than I thought. After a moment, I scooted closer to her and put my arm around her.

She sniffled. "It's just been hard joining this group," she finally admitted. "I feel like such an outsider. Sam's new too, but everyone really likes him. He's so outgoing. I don't know how to relate to people. I don't know how to be… popular. Like you, Rachel."

"_Me?_" Was I popular? Well, I guess I _was _kind of popular. I was dating Finn, and he was one of the most popular guys in school. And sure, I still got slushied sometimes, but I had a lot of friends who were willing to dry me off. I remembered seeing Charice get slushied in the cafeteria a week ago. I'd considered helping her out, but I hadn't been feeling too fond of her at the time because she'd told me that I sounded flat during our last rehearsal.

"Yes, you," she said, with a great sigh. "This is more fun that recording my album in the studio. In fact, I've never had more fun. Do you think…" she trailed off, looking up at me again. "Do you think you could help me with that? Being popular?"

"Of course I will!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands. "_Popular,"_ I sang, "_You're gonna be popular!_"

Charice laughed. "You look more like Elphaba than Galinda."

"I _knew _you had to be a Wicked fan," I said, standing up. She stood, too, smiling back at me. I linked arms with her as we walked back to the choir room. "For my eighteenth birthday, I'm promised a trip to New York City to see it on Broadway. I plan on taking Finn with me. He still gets Wicked confused with the Wizard of Oz."

We continued chatting about Wicked all the way back to the room. When we entered arm in arm, the entire room turned to stare in bewilderment. I held up my chin, proudly. I could see Finn grinning his cute, crooked little grin at me. And Mr. Schuester was positively beaming.

"Charice has had a change of heart," I announced, giving her arm a squeeze. Charice looked at me nervously, and I gave her an encouraging nod.

"Yeah, Rachel helped me," she said, in an uncharacteristically soft and shaky voice. "I realized that I'd rather be a team player than a solo artist. I mean, I already _am _a solo artist in the Philippines, but I actually like this better. So I just want to say I'm sorry and I'll do better. Can I have my spot back?"

A few people perked up at this change in her demeanor. I could see that Tina, Mike, Matt, Mercedes, Brittany, Finn, Puck, and Sam looked interested. Santana and Kurt were still scowling, however, but she had won over the majority. I glanced at Mr. Schuester, whose expression was slightly harder to read. Actually, he'd begun to look worried.

"Wait a minute, Charice, do you mean to say that you have a professional recording contract?" Mr. Schue was frowning, Charice was nodding, and he and I were the only two people in the room who seemed to know what this meant. If Artie were still here, he probably would have known, too.

"The show choir rule book," I said, weakly. "Provision nine states that only amateurs may perform in the competitions." My heart positively ached as I turned to Charice. "So that means that you _can't_ sing with us."

Charice promptly started crying even more than she had earlier. Everyone gathered around her to offer words of comfort, all of them looking genuinely sorry now, even Kurt and Santana. I hated that everything was turning out this way. Even more than hating the fact that this now left us with eleven eligible members, I felt so awful for Charice. Eventually, Brittany finally walked her out when she announced that her host family would be arriving to pick her up soon.

"What _now_?" Puck wanted to know. He, along with the others, was looking to me. Of course they were, I was still their elected captain, having maintained my title this year. I sighed heavily. I knew what we had to try to do, but I was all out of tactics.

"We have to get Artie and Quinn to come back," I said, simply. "Or just one of them would do, I suppose, but I'd like to get them both. However, I think I know someone else who might be better suited to convince Quinn. Sam?"

"I'll try," he promised.

I turned to Tina. "Will you help me talk to Artie?" I begged.

She blinked. "Rachel, Artie doesn't talk to me anymore," she said, and I could hear the anguish in her voice. "He ignores me now. We aren't even friends."

"But you're seeing the show," I pointed out. "And it's tonight, isn't it? Tonight's opening night, right?" Sam was nodding. "Well, then, we're _all _going to go. We need to present a united front. Besides, the arts programs at our school always need all the support they can get. It's time we come together instead of…"

I stopped talking all of the sudden. I needed something to write with. Ideas, ideas just come to me and I have to write them down to sort it out. When I ran to retrieve my journal from my purse, I knew Finn realized that I was experiencing a flash of brilliance. He hunched over and put a hand on my shoulder as I scribbled furiously.

"If we take out Charice's song," he said, straightening up to share my idea as I wrote. "We need another song. And since our theme is Broadway hits, this is perfect. We can sing something from Little Shop of Horrors."

"Not we," I interjected. "_Them._ Remember? Coach Sylvester pointed out this rule to us. Provision fourteen, second addendum. Not all members must perform every song."

"Rachel Berry, I think I love you," said Kurt.

I blushed. If we could just get Artie and Quinn on board with this plan, we could really show at Sectionals. I'd always regretted the fact that we took the stage with the bare minimum required for a club. If we could just convince our friends, we might have a better chance at Sectionals than ever before.


	18. Part Two: Artie

_Artie_

Adjusting my bow tie, I checked my appearance in the mirror. Hair greased down, suspenders and slacks, button down shirt... no, I wasn't dressing as myself one year ago. I was supposed to be Seymour Krelborn. In a few minutes, I would make my acting debut. It was both terrifying and exciting. Our show had already gotten good press when a local reporter swung by to do a feature story. Before we knew it, our production was the talk of the town, which isn't saying much for Lima, but it did fill up the auditorium on opening night. Mr. Marshall had come running backstage earlier to tell us that we were already a hit.

"Whoa, talk about a blast from the past," said a voice, and I turned to find that it belonged to Kurt. Matt and Tina were with him, although Tina kind of hid herself behind Matt, looking nervous. I was surprised to see her, considering we hadn't really talked since school started. Our different schedules and activities meant that we never crossed paths, and neither of us went out of our way to see the other. Seeing Tina was like seeing a piece of my history, a difficult piece.

"Yeah," I said, turning away from the mirror to face them. "Get a load of this. Seymour's clothes are one-hundred percent from my closet. Quinn told Mr. Marshall that I could come up with my own costume." I glanced at the mirror. "Can't believe I ever thought this looked cool."

I saw Tina wince. "You looked fine to me," she said, so softly that it might not have been intended for me to hear. Although walking and seeing aren't really my strengths, I do have extremely good hearing. She noticed me look her way, blushed, and went to staring at her feet.

"I'm extremely relieved that you found a new look this year," Kurt added, with a chuckle. "Although if you ever _really _want a look that's current, you know where to find me. I could do wonders with you…"

I barely batted an eye. Kurt used to beg me weekly to make over my style last year. Now that I'd improved my wardrobe on my own, he basically left me alone. I turned my attention to Tina and Matt, and that was when I noticed Matt's bruised nose and eye.

"What happened to you?"

He, in turn, looked at Kurt. "Kurt had the wrong idea about me and Mercedes so…" He shrugged, Kurt blushed, and I guffawed. It even caused Tina to take the focus off of her own shoes for a moment, and she smiled knowingly in Kurt's direction.

"That's enough about my attempt at defending my girl's honor," Kurt declared. Then, with a nudge to Matt, he suggested that they take their seats. I saw him exchange a meaningful look with Tina, however, who made no attempt to leave. Instead, she stepped further into the room.

"Um, so, break a leg?" she said, smiling forcibly at me.

It did make me laugh, however; I'd forgotten how funny she could be. This moment seemed to break the ice between us. She laughed, too, as we realized that the old theatre superstition of wishing good luck by wishing bad luck was rather odd when applied to me.

"I'm getting cold feet," I added, smirking. "It's been awhile since I forgot a line in rehearsal, but the added pressure of performing for a sold out crowd is making me anxious." I nodded to the script in my lap, the one I'd been studying religiously all day.

"I'm really proud of you for doing this, Artie," she said. "As much as we miss having you in glee, it _is _cool to see you showcase your talent like this. If your acting is half as good as your singing, you're going to blow everyone out of the water. I watched the movie to get an idea of what the show's about. It was hilarious. I'm really, really excited to see what you've been working on all semester."

God, I missed Tina. Hearing her words gave me a really strong boost of confidence. It was so cool of her to research the show like that. It kind of reminded me of how she'd once gone to all the trouble to research spinal cord injury (even though that hadn't ended well). I gave her a grateful smile and rolled forward, reaching up for a hug. She leaned over and we hugged, albeit awkwardly, but I realized how much I missed just getting hugged by her.

"I have… another reason for coming by besides wishing you break a leg," she began, biting her bottom lip a bit. I nodded slowly, not knowing what it could be, but thinking it might be about us.

"It's about Glee club," she went on. "We lost Charice."

"Oh," I said, masking my disappointment that this wasn't about us. "Sorry if I don't look very surprised. She's in my study hall. I've overheard her talking a few times. She's pretty hung up on herself, huh?"

"She isn't that bad," Tina contradicted me. "She didn't want to leave, but she can't perform with us because she's got a professional recording contract. Sam asked Quinn to come back, and she's going to do it. It'll be a little hectic since we've only got a week left for rehearsals, but we threw together Sectionals in less than an hour. We can do it."

"So, what are you telling me for?" I asked. "Quinn replaces Charice and you have the twelve you need to compete again. Problem solved."

She continued to chew on her bottom lip, then noticing a chair, grabbed it and dragged it over to mine so that we could talk eye to eye. "Except that we want _you_, Artie," she said, and then amended. "_I _want you."

"… to be in glee club," I finished.

"That too," she said.

We stared at each other for a moment. And before I knew what was happening, she was leaning in to kiss me. I closed my eyes and let her lips brush against mine, but didn't exactly kiss her back. When she drew back, I could see she hadn't been expecting my resistance.

"Sorry," I said, licking my lips nervously. I searched her brown eyes, willing her to slow down. She wanted to drag me back out on the highway, but I needed to take a trip around the block. Since the analogy sounded kind of stupid in my head, though, all I said was: "I need time to think."

"About glee club?"

"That too," I said.

Tina nodded and rose from her chair. "Well good –" she stopped short, catching the look of panic in my eyes. I don't know if I believe in the superstitions, but it was better to be safe than sorry. " – break an _arm._"

* * *

"On the twenty-third day of the month of September, in an early year of a decade not too long before our own, the human race suddenly encountered a deadly threat to its very existence. And this terrifying enemy surfaced, as such enemies often do...in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places."

The voice of Derrick Foster, who also played Audrey II, boomed across the auditorium as he read the introduction off-stage. I sat beside him, anxiously rolling myself back and forth in anticipation of taking the stage. But first, I watched Mercedes, Sasha, and Shannon dance onstage in their matching flapper dresses to sing the first number.

"_Little Shop, Little Shop of Horrors, Little Shop, Little Shop of Terror, Watch 'em drop! Little Shop of Horrors, oh, oh, oh, oh, no!"_

As they sang, I peered nervously at the audience to see if they were into it. Seated on the very front row were all of my friends from glee, along with Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury. They, like the rest of the audience, were instantly captivated by the opening number. The girls were an incredible trio, and I hated to say it, but Mercedes blew LaToya (the girl she was replacing) out of the water.

"Hey, Seymour," hissed Quinn, in her Audrey costume, a cleavage-baring, tight fitting dress that had taken me awhile to get used to. Sometimes, when she took me by surprise, I caught myself staring. Now would be one of those times. "Psst, roll your chair back an inch or so. I'm not sure about the sight lines, but the guy in the far corner might be able to see you."

Before I knew it, the song was ending and the lights were coming up on another portion of the stage where Patrick Bruno, who plays Mr. Mushnik (in a hilarious bald cap and fake moustache), was already onstage. Quinn as Audrey was the next to take the stage, getting a laugh out of the crowd as she flitted around nervously, powdering a huge fake bruise (not unlike the real one Matt Rutherford was sporting). She and Mr. Mushnik bantered back and forth about Audrey's awful excuse for a boyfriend.

"You don't meet nice boys when you live on Skid Row, Mr. Mushnik," said Quinn, powdering her bruise.

That was my cue. I rolled myself onstage, saying loudly, "I got these pots unloaded for you, Mr. Mushnik!"

As I spoke, I intentionally knocked all of the flower pots out of my lap. They shattered all over the stage. We've had to invest in a lot of flower pots, but during rehearsals, I usually skipped that part. The stage directions actually say that I'm supposed to trip, but we've modified several things to work for an actor in a wheelchair.

"Seymour, look what you've done to the inventory," Patrick admonished me. He was hilarious as Mr. Mushnik, and looked the part because he was kind of burly. It was hard to believe he was only fourteen, a freshman like Sasha and Shannon.

"Don't yell at Seymour, Mr. Mushnik," Quinn pleaded, batting her long eyelashes at me. She was wearing false eyelashes, which would have made her look innocent if not for the low cut dress.

"Oh, hi, Audrey," I said, shyly, wringing my hands as though I were nervous. "You look radiant today. Is that new eye make up?"

This prompted a laugh from the audience, which was something I wasn't used to hearing, rehearsing in an empty auditorium. It brought a certain kind of energy to the show, and by the time we got to the first number that features me, a fun song called _Downtown_, their energy was driving my performance. The number concluded to thunderous applause from the audience. I was pretty sure I heard Mr. Schuester whistle.

I grinned. I'd never been prouder in my entire life. I couldn't look at my former teammates in the crowd, of course, but knowing they were there encouraged me to give my best performance to date. By the time we made it to intermission, I knew I was giving my best performance ever. We all were.

But I had a new reason to be nervous. Act Two started off with Audrey being worried about her creep of a boyfriend whose gone missing. And that's when Seymour makes his bold move, we sing _Suddenly Seymour,_ and we finish with a kiss. The kiss had sort of gotten out of hand after Quinn and I re-watched the movie and realized that it's a hell of a lot funnier if Seymour and Audrey actually make out. And now Quinn Fabray and I were making out on a weekly basis.

She came to find me backstage while we waited for ten very long minutes to pass. I had my script in my lap, still worried about lines. I'd dropped a line in a scene with Audrey II (the giant puppet plant), but luckily, Derrick had improvised to cover for me. Still, it shook me up a little.

"You know that script by heart, Artie," she admonished me. "You even know my lines. Remember?" We'd done a joke rehearsal where we all switched roles and I'd played Audrey. But I'd refused to kiss Derrick, playing Seymour.

I nodded and closed my script. "Ready for our big kiss?"

She laughed. "Hell, yeah, Artie," she said. "Bet you never thought you'd be kissing a former head Cheerio in front of the entire school, huh?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping it would be Santana," I teased, and she swatted me on the arm. I realized I was doing it _again._ I was flirting with Quinn, but in my defence, she flirted with me, too. I had to quit doing that. It just made me look desperate.

I forced myself to focus, doing a few vocal warm ups backstage. I could hear Quinn doing her favourite tongue twister to warm up. "Unique New York, unique New York, you know you need unique New York…"

"Places, everybody!" called our stage manager, running through the backstage area with a clipboard in hand. We took our places onstage, just Quinn and I this time, and in a few minutes, the curtain was raised and the lights came up. The audience applauded immediately upon seeing us.

"Audrey, what'd they say to you?"

"Who?"

"The police."

We didn't drop a line throughout the short scene leading up to the song, and we sang our hearts out on _Suddenly Seymour. _It was hard to stay in character, mentally, when all I could think was, "_I'm about to kiss Quinn Fabray in front of Tina and the entire school."_

We didn't hold back. As she locked lips with me, seated in my lap (something we'd added), the audience burst into applause. I was pretty sure a few people might have gasped, knowing who they were really watching make out. Quinn kept it going longer than ever before finally pulling away.

The show continued as though Quinn and I hadn't officially blown the minds of McKinley High School, and Audrey II killed Mr. Mushnik.


	19. Part Two: Tina

_Tina_

As Quinn and Artie belted out the big duet, _Suddenly Seymour_, I held my breath and clutched my program to my chest. _It's just a play, they're acting. It's just a play, they're acting. It's just a - whoa, it's just a little much!_

Quinn and Artie didn't just kiss. Oh, no, they _made out_, complete with Quinn sitting in his lap as he ran his hands up and down her body, thankfully avoiding her rather ample bust. (Either she was wearing a padded bra or being pregnant had done that to her, I wasn't sure.) It was so steamy that I felt like Mr. Marshall should have asked them to tone it down a bit. I mean, weren't there probably children in the audience? I crossed and uncrossed my legs, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

To my left and right, Brittany and Santana giggled. How exactly had I gotten stuck sitting between these two? Brittany couldn't resist calling out, "You get 'em, Q!" Santana leaned across me to berate Brittany for yelling out in the middle of a play. I buried my face in my hand until I realized others were watching me for a reaction. Straightening up quickly, I feigned calm.

The remainder of the story was really engaging. Having seen the movie, I _thought _I knew how it went. I thought that Seymour was supposed to blow up the plant with an electrical shock and run away with Audrey to live happily ever after. So when the plant ended up killing the entire cast (except Mercedes and the other two singers), I was understandably quite stunned. Artie performed a very impressive "leap" out of his wheelchair into the "mouth" of the plant, and it looked like someone then pulled him inside the giant puppet to make it appear as though he was being swallowed. The sight of the empty wheelchair, followed by a loud belch had the audience screaming with laughter.

The stage went dark. Then a light came up to reveal Mercedes in the middle of the stage. She pushed a tiny potted plant across the stage in Artie's empty chair as she belted out a rather dramatic beginning, a song I didn't remember hearing in the movie either. _"Subsequent to the events you have just witnessed, similar events in cities across America…" _The other two girls joined her onstage, pushing their own plants in wheelchairs. I realized that they were two of our Proud Mary chairs. _"Events which bore a striking resemblance to the ones you have just seen began occurring…" _

As the song continued, the rest of the cast joined the girls onstage, all of them dressed plants! Artie, dressed as a plant, was carried onstage by the largest guy, which drew another laugh from the crowd. It amazed me that he had the confidence to let someone carry him in public. As for Artie, he just grinned and belted out the song with the rest of the ensemble: _"Don't feed the plants!"_

As I watched, I admired how much Artie had grown to accept his disability. When we'd first auditioned for glee club, I'd dragged him into it. He'd had plenty of reservations, most of them revolving around being in a club where he was expected to _dance. _He'd started out his journey with us by taking every opportunity he could to sing from the sidelines while playing with the band. I remember how first he reacted after I added my own little dance step to _Don't Stop Believin'_ by walking over to him and turning his chair in a little circle.

"_Uh, Tina, don't do that the next time we perform,_" he'd requested, pulling me off to the side after the song had ended. _"If you don't mind, I mean. It's just that it draws unnecessary attention to me and the chair, and I'd rather not have that." _

And then _Push It_ had changed everything. Artie confessed to being obsessed with the song, and when we came up with the part at the beginning where Artie got to take the spotlight, he couldn't resist. I began to see a totally new side of him when we did that number, and I just knew that buried beneath that insecurity was a true performer, a star just waiting for a chance to shine. And now here I sat, witness to the birth of a true star.

As the cast belted out the last notes of the finale, the lights cut out dramatically, save for one tiny spotlight on the plant in Artie's wheelchair that lingered for just a moment before going out. I jumped to my feet, followed closely by all the glee kids on the front row. When the lights came back up, the stage was empty. The kids with smaller parts came out first and we cheered, saving our biggest cheers for Quinn and Artie.

First was Quinn, nearly bursting out of her tight fitting dress and beaming from ear to ear. Sam immediately jumped out of his seat and thundered up the steps, his arm full of pink roses. "Please, they've been on _one_ date," Santana scoffed beside me as Sam received a kiss on the cheek from Quinn before scurrying back to his seat.

Shelby came up next, carrying more roses and holding Beth on her hip. I wondered how Quinn was going to react to her baby being onstage, on display for the whole school to see, but she took Beth from Shelby for a moment and kissed the baby's cheek before returning her to Shelby. As Shelby and Beth left the stage, Quinn stepped back into the line.

But my eyes were on the stage where Artie rolled out to the middle, waving at the audience before taking his bow by leaning forward at the waist. The biggest cheer went up for Artie. His parents and sister took the stage, and I could tell Artie was sort of relieved that they didn't have roses. You probably didn't give a boy roses for being in a play.

The whole cast formed a line with Artie and Quinn in the center and took one final bow. New Directions screamed and cheered louder than anyone else in the audience. I yelled out Artie's name, but I couldn't quite make myself heard over all the other cheers. The curtain closed on the still beaming cast and crew.

As we stood and stretched our legs, Rachel was gushing about the numbers. "That was the best musical I've ever seen from our theatre department," she gushed. "This new teacher must be a genius. Which number should we ask them to do? I like the finale, but _The Meek Shall Inherit _was great, too. And _Downtown_, that was a good ensemble number. I can't decide what would impress the judges the most."

"Rachel, I don't know if we can get Artie," I felt obliged to tell her. "I talked with him a little bit backstage, but all he said was that he needed some time to think."

Rachel sighed, impatiently. "We don't _have _time. We need Artie, and we need the rest of the cast as well. Tina, you've failed your mission, and I'm taking over. I'm going backstage and –"

"Wait!" I love Rachel, but her tactics just don't work. She's too bossy and pushy, and I know for a fact that it doesn't work because it hasn't ever worked on me. I knew _Artie_, on the other hand, had a way of convincing people to see things his way. If I could just get him to go for it, I knew he would sell it to the rest of the cast.

It was hard to tell if I was trying harder at getting Artie back in New Directions or getting Artie back as my boyfriend. Whatever the case, with renewed determination, I pushed my way through the crowd and snuck backstage to find Artie again.

Backstage was a mad house with members of the cast and crew running all over the place, putting props away and shedding pieces of costumes, although thankfully, there was no nudity. I've heard stories; theatre kids get a little too comfortable with each other sometimes. Amidst all the chaos, Artie had ended up on an old couch that was probably a prop for a show at some point, his eyes closed and hands folded across his lap. The wheelchair had been returned to him after the finale and was parked next to the couch. Beads of sweat still clung to the end of his hair from being under the light. His stage makeup almost made him look like a doll. He was still wearing his "Seymour clothes," although the plant costume that he'd apparently worn over it sat in a puddle under the couch. I lowered myself onto the empty corner next to his feat, jostling the couch enough to disturb him.

"Hey," he grinned at me, opening one eye. "Derrick always plops me here after the show and I strip off my plant costume. What did you think of it?"

"I thought you were _amazing_," I said, resisting the urge to be overly touchy by grabbing his hand. I settled for patting his leg, which was kind of silly since he can't feel that. He seemed to be thinking the same thing I was and gave me a wry smile.

"How did you get back here anyway?" Artie wanted to know.

"I don't know, I guess I blend in with the crew," I rationalized, surveying the outfit I'd worn. "I'm wearing black."

"You do look good in black," he said, suddenly reaching for my hand that rested on his knee. He gave it a squeeze, silently telling me that he was glad I'd come to see him perform and glad that I was sitting with him now. So he didn't want me to leave? Like before, I could never really tell how Artie felt about me. He was awfully difficult to read.

I remembered the mission for which I had been sent, and knowing that time was running out, I just had to ask him while I still had the chance. I cleared my throat.

"Rachel has an idea for the whole cast to join the show because the show choir rule book says that not every member has to perform every song," I blurted out. "We can't do it, though, if you don't do it, too. I mean, sure, the other option is that Quinn comes back, gives us the twelve we need, and we make it work. But I'd rather see you shine like you did tonight, Artie. I'm sorry you quit on account of me. If you really can't do Glee club with me there, then I should be the one to quit."

He sat up a little straighter, alarmed. "No," he said, softly. "Why should you be the one to quit? I was the stupid one. I let my own insecurity about being in a chair get in the way of our relationship. I thought…. I thought I couldn't be the man you needed. Now I realize that the chair was only a problem because I _made _it a problem."

I weighed his words for a moment, looking at that chair. Why did an inanimate object have the ability to ruin our relationship? Ours was so much like the story of Audrey and Seymour. They would have been happy and wouldn't have been eaten by a giant plant if Seymour had only realized what Audrey told him in the end. He didn't need a giant plant to make Audrey love him. She loved him anyway.

That chair. That _stupid_ chair.

In one swift motion, I jumped up from my seat and gave the wheelchair a firm kick. I sent it crashing to the ground, causing several cast members to jump in alarm. Artie was giving me a wide eyed look, as if he wasn't quite sure what had gotten into me. I half expected him to tell me to "respect the chair." Instead, he pushed himself up to reach for me, wrapped an arm around my neck, and pulled me onto the couch on top of him. Our limbs tangled in confusion, we kissed like we had never kissed before, making Quinn and Artie's passionate stage kiss look tame by comparison.

A few cast members dedicated an impromptu song to us: _"Suddenly Artie…!" _Mercedes whistled.

Yes, it might have been embarrassing, but I just didn't care. I didn't seem to care about anything anymore.

I was just _that_ into him.


	20. Epilogue: Jacob

McKinley's Little Shop of Horrors Heads in a New Direction

_by Jacob Ben Israel_

Many members of the community, as well as students and faculty, came to see a sold-out opening night performance of "Little Shop of Horrors.""Little Shop" is the debut project of McKinley's new theatre teacher, Craig Marshall. When asked about his decision to choose this show, as well as his choice to cast wheelchair-bound Arthur "Artie" Abrams as Seymour Krelborn, Marshall had this to say:

"Little Shop of Horrors is certainly a story that Lima can relate to," said Marshall. "It takes place in a sleepy little town not unlike our own and the protagonists – well, in truth, sweet Audrey is the only true protagonist – are very relatable. I really liked what [Artie's] wheelchair brought to the story. We worked it into the show, like what you saw in the finale, and I believe it gave the story an even more personal feel. It made us cheer for Seymour, even though…. well, I won't spoil the ending."

In a most impressive resurgence, Quinn Fabray is no longer McKinley's resident pregnant cheerleader. She co-stars as Audrey, the sweet and innocent battered girlfriend who falls in love with the geeky shop worker, Seymour. Seymour names his plant "Audrey II" in honor of his not-so-secret love for the "Audrey I." Ms. Fabray was not available for comment.

In addition to the lead roles of Seymour and Audrey, the supporting cast gives an impressive performance as well. Starring as the trio of singing street urchins are Mercedes Jones (replacing LaToya Flores), Shannon Decker and Sasha Decker. Jones, Decker, and Decker sing many of the shows numbers, opening and closing the show with their powerful vocals. Patrick Bruno plays Mr. Mushnik, the grouchy store owner who sings a hilarious duet, a whimsical song and dance number, with Seymour entitled "Mushnik and Son." Levi Nelson plays Orin Scrivello, Audrey's abusive boyfriend, a maniac dentist. Nelson's take on the song "Dentist" gives us all a new reason to fear our next visit. Finally, Derrick Foster rounds out the cast, giving a voice to Audrey II, the giant blood-sucking plant from outer space. His soulful voice belts out "Feed Me (Git it)" with such conviction that I may never look at fly traps the same way again.

The show runs for two more weeks so get your tickets before they sell out. But if you want to see more of this impressive cast and you can't afford to shell out another $7.50 for a ticket, you still have another chance to see them perform. The cast of "Little Shop" will be joining forces with our own New Directions glee club as they head to Sectionals next Saturday. They won't tell us this journalist which number they intend to contribute so you'll have to turn up and find out for yourself.

Auditions for the spring musical begin in January. Marshall is keeping quiet about his next project for now, but if it is anything like "Little Shop," you can be sure it will be worth your time.


End file.
